


Wolf Pack

by Amethystina



Series: The Thunder Moon Chronicles [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bromance, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, M/M, Panic Attack, Pre-Slash (eventual slash), Quite a lot of feels too, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2013-03-22
Packaged: 2017-11-21 22:09:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 80,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/602609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amethystina/pseuds/Amethystina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's inevitable for Scott and Stiles to get pulled into the battle for the Beacon Hills territory when a rival pack of werewolves arrive. All Stiles wanted was a summer free of supernatural shenanigans but instead he finds himself neck deep in trouble, desperately trying to find ways to keep them all safe.</p><p>His plan is simple really. Now he just has to make everyone else see that too.</p><p>If Stiles and Derek had been on better terms that would probably have been a lot easier to accomplish, but little by little even that animosity seems to be subject to change when the threat from the rival pack draws nearer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Wow. I can't believe I did this. This is a slow burn, plot and character oriented three pieced monstrosity of a story and I don't recommend it to people who want instant gratification. It's season two compliant but takes off in a different direction after that and could be seen as my take on the third season. Just with more Sterek and no alpha pack.
> 
> I've tried my best to remain as close to canon as possible when it comes to virtually everything which is also why the slash is a bit slow going. Just be patient and we'll get there eventually. There is bromance abound however, so please enjoy that in the meantime.
> 
> Huge thanks to my beta, [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum). The poor thing had no idea what she was getting herself into when she agreed to proof read this...

  


 

* * *

 

Stiles was surprised to find that he wasn't dead by the time summer rolled around. Really. With his luck and the frequency with which Beacon Hills was swarmed by homicidal were-creatures he had been prepared to plan his own funeral, right down to the words he wanted carved on his tombstone. He had been able to narrow it down to either 'Stiles Stilinski – his death was painful and cruel' or 'Stiles Stilinski – a.k.a. The Real Batman'. Since both were equally awesome he had figured that his dad would get the last say, tragic as that may be.

As it turned out Stiles had been a tad bit overdramatic when plotting his impending death and the two week wake he wanted following his painful and unfair demise. Because it never happened. Talk about anti-climactic and boy had he been glad that he hadn't actually sent out the invitations he had considered at one point.

But you couldn't blame him, not really. It was all fun to joke about but it had been a close call. Closer than anyone should ever have to face before they even turned legal. Stiles had been full-out panicking, thinking that he would never get to see his next summer. Not that the summer itself held any specific meaning, it was just horrifying to think that he would die that young.

Ever since he and Scott got pulled into the whole werewolf disaster Stiles had practically been able to feel the years peeling off from both of their life expectancies, one painstaking second at a time. And with the latest dealing with the kanima, Allison's crazy grandfather and murdering psychopaths rising from the grave it had only been understandable for him to expect the oncoming apocalypse. It was way above his pay grade.

Not that he was actually paid anything for risking his life and running around in the woods trying to help his best friend and a ragtag gang of werewolves that he wasn't even sure if he particularly liked and that spent far too much time mauling him with car parts or being generally threatening. The ungrateful bastards. Why was he doing this again? Oh yeah, Scott. That's why.

In the aftermath of the whole kanima incident Stiles had expected things to turn worse again – because it always did for them – but nothing happened. He had spent days, weeks even, bracing himself for what was to come next but it was all quiet on the supernatural front. Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. Before he knew it school was out for the summer and he was left bereft, floundering for some kind of explanation for this sudden leniency. He almost didn't dare to believe it, thinking that someone was lulling them into a false sense of security. But a week into his summer break he realized that he had to stop being such a pessimist, even if it came natural to him. He would just drive himself into having another series of panic attacks and that was just pathetic. So he decided to embrace what he got with as much enthusiasm as he had. Which was a fair share.

The one who probably appreciated the sudden lack of incriminating behavior and late night excursions in the woods the most was his father. Granted that his dad didn't know even a third of what his son was really up to – and thank God for that – but after the shit storm with Jackson's restraining order and the suspicious appearances at crime scenes some downtime was like a balm to their frayed relationship. It still wasn't good, nowhere near what it had been, but it was okay. It was getting better.

His dad was still suspicious, like any good cop would be, but the tense line of his shoulders had softened after several nights of coming home from a shift to find Stiles lounging in front of the TV or clattering away on his laptop. He almost seemed delighted and relieved to find that his son was a lazy bum teenager and not a delinquent running around in the dead of night visiting crime scenes and slaughtering newborns. Or whatever his dad had feared that Stiles was up to.

The playful banter returned, if a bit hesitantly. Both of them were cautiously testing the waters each moment spent in each other presence, his dad trying to gauge whether Stiles was out of his 'rebellious phase' yet and Stiles trying to mend the loss of trust and wipe some of that disappointment away. Lying to his dad had gnawed a hole of guilt into his chest and it ached every time he caught the sight of a new crease on his dad's forehead or that hesitation when he went off to work, clearly fearing that Stiles would be up to his neck in trouble as soon as he turned his back.

Stiles was slowly driving a wedge between them, he knew that, but what could he do? Telling his dad about werewolves seemed pretty pointless now, especially if things had calmed down. The fact that Scott's mom knew but his dad had been unconscious during the big reveal was both lucky, unlucky and all kinds of ridiculously improbable.

A part of Stiles wouldn't have minded if his dad had found out the same time Mrs. McCall did since that would have meant that someone took the decision and responsibility out of his hands, but he wasn't cold hearted enough to wish that kind of shock on his dad. Sure, Mrs. McCall had it worse what with Scott being an actual werewolf – Stiles just socialized with them – but there was bound to be some confusion. And his dad was legally allowed to carry a gun. That could never end well.

Things were getting better though. They were on the mend. Stiles might not be able to gain his father's complete trust again but he could try not being such a disappointment. It would only benefit Stiles to try that, honestly. He couldn't lose his dad, no matter the reason or situation.

Another benefit that came from the lull in supernatural conflicts was Scott. Or more correctly some designated Scott and Stiles bro-time. Sure, more than half of that might actually have been because Scott and Allison had broken up, again, and Scott no longer had her to moon over all hours of the day. Not that he miraculously stopped swooning over Allison, oh no, he most certainly pined like a lovesick puppy, but he kept it decent and surprisingly mature.

Stiles was actually very impressed with Scott when it came to the breakup. Last time Scott had been miserable and clueless but this time he almost seemed calm. Definitely not happy or anything because his non-existent puppy ears drooped every time Allison hurried past them in the corridors at school, gaze firmly locked on the floor, but Scott knew that she needed time.

Scott seemed to know that this was different. This was Allison needing to come to terms with her mother's death and her own freak episode where she turned into a deranged version of Xena the warrior princess. It wasn't Scott's fault and Stiles suspected that Scott took a lot of comfort in that. It wasn't about them as a couple, it was about Allison and her needs and Scott was nothing if not heroic and unbearably self-sacrificing. And no matter how you looked at it Scott had matured immensely over the last couple of months, probably more than he should have been forced to at such a young age, carrying worries no teenager should have to shoulder, but he put it to good use. He truly did. Stiles was very proud.

Allison and Scott were still obviously in love – they had always been so sweet that it hurt Stiles' teeth to see them together – but now was not the time. Stiles suspected that Allison was in the middle of an existential crisis fuelled by guilt and grief but it wasn't his place to meddle. Sure, he cared for the girl what with her being Scott's destined soul mate or some crap like that but he was too close to Scott to offer any help. She wouldn't want it from him. Especially not considering that a fair share of her guilt hopefully included Stiles having been beaten to a bloody pulp by her murderous grandfather while she slept peacefully in her bed.

Stiles wasn't bitter, honestly, he wasn't, but he was human enough to want her to at least admit to the wrongs she had committed. And if her hunched shoulders and pained expressions were anything to go by she had. That was good enough for Stiles. Allison would come around, he knew that, and Scott would be waiting for her when she did. That was as much of a fact as the sun rising in the morning.

Until then Scott and Stiles were able to catch up on some much needed bro-bonding and Stiles had to admit that it made him happier than he had been in ages. It didn't quite feel like old times because there had still been full moons to consider, keeping close tabs on Scott's emotions just in case he wasn't as grounded now that he didn't have Allison a phone call away and some chipped edges to their friendship. Like Scott's recent inability to offer Stiles the same support he had given the newly turned werewolf. Stiles didn't want to be picky but he had felt a little frustrated – or flat out panicked, more correctly – when Scott had hung up on him while he was fighting for his life in the pool. But that would change, Scott had promised.

One of the first things they had done was to sit down and share all the details the other had missed during the climax of the kanima situation. Stiles could admit that it was mostly because he was incredibly miffed about not having been included in Scott and Deaton's brilliant plan, but that might have been a good thing in retrospect. While Grandpa Argent hadn't seemed particularly interested in interrogating him Stiles would have been infinitely more nervous if he had actually had something to hide from the crazy old bugger.

Now Stiles just made sure to congratulate Scott on having managed a plan – a good plan even – without Stiles' involvement. Because Stiles gave credit where credit was due. The fact that Scott looked like a praised puppy with a wagging, imaginary tail was just a bonus.

Telling Scott that all the bruises Gerard had given Stiles had been a method to scare Scott and his dad had not been nice though. But they had promised each other honesty and Scott had been so hopeful and trusting and a part of Stiles had wanted to get his friend back so desperately – that unconditional devotion and caring playfulness they had developed over the years. He missed that.

It had still been like pulling teeth. He had hated being forced to admit to being that weak and making Scott worry but he drew the line at lying to another person he cared for. He didn't want to lie to Scott too. If he kept up with the secrets it would soon come to a point where he didn't trust anyone. And he wasn't sure if he would survive that. He needed Scott, just as much as Scott needed him. So he told Scott everything, except perhaps how scared he had actually been.

So with the re-introduction of Scott-time Stiles felt pretty good. They were still tiptoeing around certain subjects but the weeks spent leading up to their summer break had been blissfully normal. They were social pariahs at school again, like Scott had predicted, but that was okay. They still had each other, as sappy as that might have sounded.

School had actually been quite an adventure. Lydia had taken the news of the existence of supernatural beings with a calm that had seemed false only to Stiles because, hello, he had spent years observing her from afar and knew when she was distressed. He never called her out on it though because she was a) handling it exceptionally well none the less, b) had them all by their guilty balls for having kept her out of the loop for so long and c) was scary as fuck.

Stiles loved Lydia – always would – but she knew when she could demand absolute obedience and would never pass up on milking it to its last drop. Which was why she had corned Stiles at school one week after the whole epic battle had gone down and forced him to tell her everything that same afternoon. Had this been a couple of months ago Stiles would have been ecstatic to have her seek him out and direct her full attention towards him but now he just felt a painful twinge in his chest and made sure to force a smile. He had told Scott that he still planned to woo her to his best abilities but a part of him – the majority actually – had given up. It was still nice to cling to, something secure and stable in their ever changing existence, but he knew it wasn't going to happen.

He was still a little pleased to have her come to him though. Sure, he knew it was because Lydia had enough of a heart not to bother Allison and that Jackson knew as little as she did but it still made him happy. It made him feel useful.

So he had told her everything he could, feeling incredibly relieved when she soaked it all up with that terrifying level of concentration Lydia had when dealing with something she considered to be of use to her. After being faced with Scott's genuine but honestly pathetic attempts to understand the most basic concepts of the werewolf lore Lydia was a genius. But then again, she always was no matter what kind of task it involved. Stiles honestly felt tempted to weep at her feet and kiss the ground she walked on. Lydia was awesome.

She took to the information in a heartbeat and with a grace Stiles would envy to his dying day but he knew that it was mostly a facade. She would spend some precious moments freaking out over it when she was alone. That didn't make her any less perfect in Stiles' eyes. Neither did the hitch in her voice when she told him about what Peter had done to her. She had tried to sound flippant but Stiles had seen the haunted look in her eyes. And he hadn't been able to offer any comfort except for his usual stumbling words and compliments.

She had smiled at him then, sweetly and slightly more honest than he had ever seen before, and Stiles had fallen a little more in love with her in that moment. But he knew better than to hope. Lydia was with Jackson. Lydia's love for Jackson had literally pulled him from the edge of a murderous rampage and Stiles just couldn't compete with that. It still hurt and would for months to come but he could admit that he had lost. Lydia loved Jackson so much.

Jackson had been another pressing thing to deal with. Stiles had no idea how Mr. and Mrs. Whittemore had taken the news of their son's sudden death and then equally sudden resurrection but the school was gossiping like mad. Stiles might have enjoyed that fact a little more than he should have. It might not have been Jackson's intention to become a murdering lizard-snake-thing but he was still a douche, which he demonstrated on regular intervals even after they had saved his sorry ass and the power of Lydia's love had allowed him to shed the scales and grow some bitching fur instead. Had Stiles mentioned that Lydia was awesome? Because she was.

Jackson hadn't returned to school until a week after his repeated death and inclusion to the fangs and flea-club but when he finally did he acted as if nothing had happened. At least to the general population at the school. Stiles noticed that he didn't try to hassle neither Scott nor Stiles even if it had been his favorite past time prior to the whole lizard transformation and Danny had seemed impressed but slightly wary of Jackson's lack of animosity. He wasn't Jackson unless he was trying to squash someone else's self-esteem – even his best friend knew that.

But Jackson had changed. Marginally. He was still a douche and gave everyone the cool, cold shoulder like always but he wasn't actively trying to harm anyone. Perhaps having been turned into a kanima had helped him learn a couple of things.

Stiles had to admit that he had been worried about what would happen to Jackson now that he was a werewolf considering the amount of babying Stiles had been forced to submit Scott to, but he guessed that he got his answer when Lydia questioned him thoroughly about werewolf business. She was definitely capable of handling Jackson even with an additional set of claws and fangs. So Stiles had given her as many tips as he could and prayed that she wouldn't get hurt somehow. But he figured that if there was anyone a wolfed out Jackson wouldn't hurt it was Lydia, much like how Scott seemed incapable of harming Allison. She was their safest bet to tame Jackson in time for the first couple of full moons he had to go through.

That didn't mean that Stiles hadn't urged Lydia to call if anything came up when the first full moon had arrived and almost forgot about keeping an eye on Scott because he was hovering by his phone, staring at the screen and willing it not to inform him that Lydia was somehow fighting for her life and calling in a panic.

She never did and while both she and Jackson seemed weary and tired the days following the full moon it was probably as good as they were going to get before Jackson learned to control it better. Stiles tried to pry some details out of Lydia but she just snapped that it was none of his business and that was that.

It wasn't Stiles' fault that he felt a desperate need to keep all the baby betas in check – in his experience they always seemed particularly prone to harm him for some reason. Where Scott was heroic and wanted to keep people safe Stiles wanted to keep them in line and organized. At least that was what he told himself because control issues sounded manlier than being a mother hen.

That particular urge of his came to a peak when Erica, Boyd and Isaac re-entered the scene. They were all considered to be runaways but Isaac didn't really have anyone to run away from, orphaned as he was, and Erica and Boyd must have settled some of the issues with their respective families because they returned to school just in time to suffer through the last wave of exams.

They weren't a group of three little wolves anymore, Stiles noticed that much, with Isaac gravitating towards Scott rather than the other two, who in turn stuck together like glue. There was something longing in the glances Erica and Boyd kept throwing in Isaac's direction but Stiles wasn't entirely certain what it meant. But it might have to do with Erica and Boyd and how they had planned to flee Beacon Hills just before the big finale, which Scott had relayed during their mutual sharing of information. Stiles wasn't sure why they hadn't but he wasn't going to ask either.

Stiles had felt on edge as soon as they had returned though, positive that this was it – this was when the shit hit the fan again – but all of them had behaved. Granted that Erica and Boyd skipped more classes than recommended and Isaac seemed there mostly to participate during lacrosse practice and talk to Scott but they kept out of trouble. And Stiles was not going to linger on the fact that he was so informed about three werewolves who were neither his friends nor people who actually seemed to like him.

Out of the three of them Isaac seemed to be the happiest but that was honestly relative because he was a tragic victim of child abuse and had apparently spent a fair share of his time locked in a freezer. His scale was probably a little askew at that point and Stiles felt disgusted to even have to make such a connection. Why anyone would want to harm Isaac was beyond him because before his werewolf transformation turned him into a cocky bastard prone to violence he had seemed sweet and harmless enough to put one of Botticelli's cherubs to shame. Luckily enough both Isaac and Erica had put a lid on their viciousness and Boyd hadn't had it in the first place, so they were all good.

All three of them seemed a little lost but Stiles couldn't exactly blame them for _that_ , considering that their firmest point in life was a man several years their senior who spent far too much time brooding in a burnt out shell of a house or an abandoned train depot. Derek was one of the few people Stiles hadn't seen during the time leading up to his summer break and he was all for that. He was actually so fine with it that he had started to work on forgetting the alpha entirely.

He didn't hate Derek per se but he was a constant thorn in Stiles' side – an ungrateful, rude thorn – and considering that the supernatural business seemed right about over Stiles figured that he wouldn't have to deal with him ever again. Scott was still his own and not a part of Derek's ridiculous little band of leather wearing werewolves and Stiles mostly only had contact with Derek through Scott anyway.

Derek wouldn't have been so bad if it hadn't been for the fact that he seemed chronically incapable of listening, was stubborn as a mule and resorted to violence as soon as the option was given – and most of the times when it wasn't. Stiles could understand if Derek was grumpy, really he could. The man's family was burned alive for heaven's sake and his surviving sister was murdered by his crazy uncle who he then was forced to kill in turn but it didn't quite take and said uncle was now back from the dead. Stiles was infinitely relieved that Derek's life wasn't his, to put it simply. But Derek didn't exactly make it easy for people to be around him. So Stiles felt no obligation to be one of those people.

Another face Stiles hadn't seen lately was Peter Hale's and cripes was he happy about that fact. Stiles had seen him with his own eyes at the last confrontation with the kanima and Scott had explained what little he knew but Stiles had a hard time wrapping his head around the concept no matter how much he tried. He knew that Peter was probably out to wreck some more havoc on the world but he just wasn't equipped to deal with that right now. Or possibly ever.

So Stiles resorted to denial. For as long as he possibly could and when that didn't work he would utilize his honed skills of ignoring a problem until it went away. Because that had actually worked on several occasions. Shut up.

Stiles was actually rather annoyed with the resident psychos because none of them seemed particularly interested in dying. Kanima-Jackson had died twice in a night, Peter had come back to life and Gerard Argent was still MIA despite his defeat and impending death by cancer. Stiles tried not to worry about the latter, especially considering that they still had Chris Argent to freak out over, but he seemed almost harmless in comparison to his wacko father.

Stiles would take Chris Argent over Gerard any day of the week – or Allison's mom, for that matter. Stiles if anyone knew what it felt like to lose your mother and he wasn't going to stomp on that but Victoria Argent had been as terrifying as she was fierce. No lie.

But the hunters behaved. Allison and her dad seemed keener on repairing their battered relationship than hunt Scott for having dated her and that was better than Stiles could hope for. As long as they weren't running for their lives he could accept a lot. It was nice not having to feel as if his next breath would be his last. He enjoyed being able to relax again and spend some much needed time playing video games with Scott and complaining about exams and school.

Things almost seemed normal, for all intents and purposes, even if they both knew that they weren't. Scott was still a werewolf – but his mother knew about it now – Allison was mourning the sudden loss of a parent, Lydia was grappling for purchase, Jackson was struggling with what he had done and what it had resulted in and the three little wolves were lost and confused. And Stiles, well, he was just Stiles. They weren't regular teenagers anymore. They never would be again. Nothing could change that.

But for now they had summer vacation to look forward to. The kanima incident was over, no one had died a brutally horrible death at the end and things were shaping up on the supernatural front.

Stiles should have known that even thinking it would jinx it. He should have known that the moment those words crossed his mind the shit was bound to start up again. And it did. It definitely did.

Fuck his life.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any questions you can find me over at my [Tumblr](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/)  
> 


	2. Warning

  


 

* * *

 

Stiles thought that his reaction when Scott called him that fateful evening when everything started again was completely justified. Scott should have known better than to greet Stiles with a 'hey, Derek showed up and he-', which was as far as Scott got before Stiles screeched like a dying whale and hung up. Derek dropping by was never good. In fact, in Stiles' experience that was always when shit turned from bad to worse. Or in this case from nothing to cataclysmic apocalypse.

He didn't even have time to place his phone back on his desk before it was buzzing again, signaling that Scott apparently wasn't done with whatever he wanted to say. Stiles rolled his eyes, took a deep, cleansing breath and grit his teeth.

"Dude! Are you okay?" Scott asked urgently when Stiles eventually picked up. Trust Scott to miss out on the small fact that Stiles had hung up on him and wasn't dying on the other end. Bless Scott and his uneven jaw but he wasn't always the most attentive when it came to details.

"Yeah, I'm totally okay with Derek ruining our summer by telling us about some unavoidable disaster that will most likely claim enough lives to shame a small Mexican city before it's over." Stiles' answer was met with dead silence. He could practically hear Scott hesitating. "Oh my God, Scott! No, I'm not okay!"

"How did you know he came with bad news?"

"Dude! Because he always does!" Stiles flailed, just to show his indignation, which was incredibly ineffective considering that Scott couldn't even see him. "Where he goes trouble follows. He always comes running when everything is at its worst, expecting help, but then he refuses to cooperate and never even says thank you! You should really put bars on your window, Scott, so he can't come in anymore. Your relationship isn't healthy."

Once again Stiles was met with silence, save some rustling of clothes that he was pretty sure meant that Scott was shuffling nervously from foot to foot. Oh great.

"He's still there, isn't he? And he heard everything I said and is looking like death and murder?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Scott replied in an exhale.

"Super."

Stiles could hear a deep growl in the background, which he assumed was Derek threatening him with the aforementioned death and murder, but since Stiles' hearing was pathetically human he had no way of deciphering it. Which, on second thought, was probably a blessing in disguise.

Scott cleared his throat, apparently the adult in the situation, no matter how improbable that sounded.

"He came to warn us."

"Oh great. I love warnings. They always precede panic and mayhem, which I love even more."

Okay, so he might have laid the sarcasm on a little too thick that night but he had just had the time to begin hoping for a normal summer. He had just let go of the panic from the last couple of months and embraced the thought of being a regular lazy teenager for a while. Now Derek had to ruin that.

Of course Stiles knew that Derek probably wasn't the cause of it all. Except for when he was, like with the kanima, where it was totally his fault for biting Jackson in the first place and making him turn into a homicidal werelizard. But Stiles wasn't feeling particularly gracious that evening. Or ever for that matter.

"Another werewolf pack is approaching," Scott continued, knowing from experience that ignoring Stiles' quips was the best way to get your message across without being derailed. Good man, Scott.

"What? Another pack?" Stiles frowned.

"Yeah, another group of werewolves."

"Well, what do they want? Sightsee?"

"We don't know," Scott answered, his tone indicating that he was doing that frowny face he always did whenever he wanted to have an answer but thinking hurt his brain. It was honestly adorable.

"You mean that Derek doesn't know. Really, what does Derek know anyway? He's like epically uninformed all the time. He probably just came by because he missed sneaking into your room and used the approaching werewolf pack as an excuse. I see right through you, Derek, and you should probably rethink this because Scott's a minor. It's very illegal."

Granted that Stiles would never have said all that had he been face to face with the alpha but while sitting safely in his room with a phone pressed to his ear? Yeah, he was totally bringing it. There was a slight scuffle on the other end before Stiles heard a menacing growl, much closer to the receiver than earlier.

"I know how to kill you."

"Pfft! Derek, come on, death threats are so last year."

"Why don't you come over here so we can discuss that in person?"

Stiles could hear that Scott was most likely trying to keep Derek at such a distance that he couldn't talk into the phone but really, Derek had many pounds of muscles on Scott. It was actually pretty hilarious to imagine how they had to be dancing around in Scott's room, fighting over the phone.

"Uh, yeah, how about no?" Stiles replied with a grin. "I'm not an idiot, like some people."

Derek seemed just about ready to snarl back when Scott's shout forced Stiles to hold his phone at an arm's length to avoid going completely deaf. He could only imagine how Derek must feel with his heightened senses and closer proximity.

"GUYS! Cut it out!"

Stiles suppressed an urge to giggle like a naughty school boy.

"Stiles! Will you stop trying to provoke Derek into a murdering frenzy while I happen to be in the same room as him?"

"But Scoooott!" Stiles whined, not even trying to hide the glee in his voice. "It's what I do!"

"Yeah, well, cut it out. I'm putting you on speaker phone."

"Wha-? Why?!" Stiles spluttered. "So that I can't escape hearing his death threats? Oh man, Scott, you are the worst best friend ever."

Because it wasn't like Derek needed it to hear Stiles, it was just to make sure that Stiles heard Derek. Which Stiles very much didn't want to do.

"I'm okay with it." Oh Derek sounded smug, the bastard, noticeable even above the slight white noise that often came with using the speaker phone.

Stiles grit his teeth and pretended that he wasn't pouting, but really, he was.

"So, the werewolf pack." Scott really was patient. Stiles admired that. He wasn't very patient at all.

Derek seemed to realize just how immature he had been the last minute or two because when he spoke next he sounded like his usual grumpy, deadpan self.

"We've only seen signs of them so far. They're skirting around the borders, testing the limits."

"So what? Perhaps they're just passing by and felt a little curious?" Stiles sniped while twirling in his desk chair. He wasn't that optimistic but he wasn't going to waste an opportunity to antagonize Derek. The responding growl was slightly distorted by the connection and the speaker phone but Stiles could picture that scowl on Derek's face, usually reserved only for Stiles. Derek seriously had a separate scowl, just for Stiles. It was endearing.

"No." For once Derek seemed to realize that elaborating was a good thing. "They're too many. They might be looking for a territory."

"So they want to become our neighbors?" Scott asked, puzzled.

Oh sweet, innocent little Scott. Stiles hoped that Derek was giving Scott the dirtiest look he could because Stiles wasn't there to do it.

"No, let me guess. They want to steal one. And that means that the forecast for the next couple of weeks is death, death and violent death." Stiles didn't even try to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"We don't know that yet," Derek replied through gritted teeth.

"But the odds are pretty great?" That was Scott, sounding vaguely anxious but determined. Really, his newfound heroics were pretty darn attractive, so if it hadn't been for the fact that he was like a brother to Stiles he might have been interested. But with the brother aspect in mind? Ew, no.

Derek seemed reluctant to answer, like always when dealing with life-threatening information that he really shouldn't be keeping to himself. And Derek wondered why people didn't trust him? Dude.

"If you want our help you have to tell us what's going on." Bless Scott and his adorable sense of righteousness – which might be a tad bit on the hypocritical side of things considering that he had technically gone behind Derek's back at one point and spread secrets to Gerard Argent but Stiles wasn't too angry about that. It was Derek, after all. They had all come out on top in the end.

"I don't want _your_ help," Derek sneered back.

"What? But you-" Scott sounded so confused that Stiles felt the need to interrupt.

"He's saying that he wants your help but not mine, Scott."

And Stiles was fine with that. He didn't feel the least bit annoyed. Nope. It wasn't like he had kept the paralyzed werewolf afloat in a pool for over two hours, saving his life in the process. Not at all.

"Why?" Scott was adorably ignorant sometimes.

"Because I don't listen to him."

"But I don't listen to him either."

"Nooo, you don't, Scott, but you don't have my flair for epic one-liners and life sustaining sarcasm either," Stiles replied. Or pimped him out to gain favors from tech-savvy gay boys for that matter.

"So I'm basically less of a pain in Derek's ass," Scott concluded, which might have been true but ouch, way to go there tiger. Scott was supposed to be Stiles' best friend.

"And Derek is still standing right here," came an exasperated growl.

Stiles fiddled with one of the pens lying on his desk, restlessly twirling it between his fingers.

"Wow, third person, Derek? Really?"

"Shut up."

Yeah, totally not going to happen.

"If you want my help Stiles comes too," Scott said, voice firm and unyielding.

That was both flattering and a little frustrating. Stiles wasn't sure if he wanted to get pulled into what could possibly be a werewolf turf war but to hear Scott defend his honor was awesome. It made him want to puff out his chest in pride and considering that he was alone in his room he did. No one was there to witness it anyway.

"I just came to warn you," Derek answered after a brief silence. "Keep track of your friends, Scott. We don't know what these werewolves want yet."

"Noted," Stiles quipped, because really, it was a compulsion to annoy Derek at that point. Probably some sort of twisted self-preservation technique even. If he kept being snarky he wouldn't show how scared he actually was.

Not that Derek was that bad anymore. Stiles was mostly certain that the alpha wouldn't kill him just for the sake of killing him, but there was no guarantee that bodily harm wouldn't be involved somehow and Stiles wasn't a fan of pain. At all. And Derek's first language had always been violence, not English. Their communication was bound to make Stiles feel a little nervous.

He fumbled with the pen he had been twirling and it clattered to the desk before he had time to catch it.

"Just keep an eye out," Derek growled before a silence fell, during which Stiles could only assume that Derek left Scott's room. The alpha always did have a habit of wanting to have the last word and making a dramatic exit. A rustle was heard when Scott picked up the phone again, probably to turn off the speaker phone and continue the conversation with a little more privacy.

"Is he gone?" Stiles asked after a couple of seconds while playing with the pen from his desk again.

"Yeah, he left," Scott confirmed.

"Dude! You should lock your window!" Stiles exclaimed, his spastic arm flail causing the pen in his hand to shoot across the room like a deadly projectile, colliding with his drawers with a dull thunk. Okay, he should probably be more careful with those kinds of things.

"I think that he would just break it."

"Oh man, do you even realize in how many ways that sentence is just _wrong_?" Stiles whined.

"Hey! You sneak into my room all the time!" Scott argued.

"Yeah, but I'm your best friend, not a murderous alpha werewolf with trust issues and dude, why are you defending him? I thought that you were on the Derek-hate-train with me!"

"I am! Or well, not hate exactly, I just-"

"Nevermind, Scott." Stiles rolled his eyes. Scott was physically incapable of disliking some people. And sure, Stiles didn't really hate Derek but he wasn't prepared to say that he liked him either. Not in a million years. He was willing to save his life because Stiles didn't want anyone's death on his conscience but it was a stretch to say that he enjoyed his company.

Scott took a deep breath and Stiles could practically hear the anxiety in that simple rush of air. He didn't even need to see Scott's face.

"You think they're here to kill us?"

Stiles leaned his elbow against his desk, running his free hand over his short hair. He wanted to lie but Scott wouldn't be fooled. Not really. He would be able to tell, werewolf powers or not. Scott honestly wasn't stupid, he just wasn't good at academics and was a little slow on the uptake sometimes, but far from an idiot. Stiles would describe him as innocent and naïve if anything.

"I don't know, Scott," he replied, settling for some kind of compromise. Because he didn't know. His gut told him that the approaching pack was less than friendly but they wouldn't know until they got closer. Perhaps they would decide that it wasn't worth the risk to attack this particular area. It was impossible to know. "We'll just have to wait and see."

"You'll be with me though, right?"

It wasn't even a question, not really, and Stiles smiled crookedly.

"Yeah, you wouldn't survive a day without me."

"Would too!"

"Real mature, Scott, real mature."

Stiles could practically feel Scott's grin, even through the phone. Yeah, it was great to have his best friend back. He had missed him after Allison had squeezed herself into their lives and the werewolf shenanigans had forced them to have other priorities. Stiles had always been a little jealous of Allison, he was man enough to admit that, but he had Scott now and he would make sure to treasure that. Even if it meant helping him ward off a pack of feral werewolves. Because Stiles was just a good friend like that.

 

 

Scott was still working for Deaton during the summer so Stiles didn't really have as much time with his best friend as he would have liked, but the evenings were usually reserved for their movie marathons or gaming tournaments. That meant that Stiles spent his lonely days lazing around the house, being a general waste of space and enjoying the air conditioning. Stiles had thought that his dad would urge him to get a job over the summer but he seemed so relieved to have Stiles at home and out of trouble that he didn't put that much effort into his arguments. That was possibly about to change. For the worse.

It wasn't like Stiles wanted to get involved. He never wanted to get dragged into something that could result in his or other people's deaths. Had he known that sneaking out into the forest that night months ago in search for half of Laura Hale's body would result in Scott being bitten by a werewolf Stiles wouldn't even have considered going. Or, okay, he would have _considered_ it but he would have stayed home in the end.

It wasn't worth it and Stiles felt more than a little guilty. He had actually been surprised that Scott didn't blame him for it since Stiles was the one who had dragged them out there in the first place, but that was Scott for you. Forgiving even when his life got screwed over by psychotic murdering werewolves and his spastic, hyperactive friend.

The morning after Derek's reappearance into their lives everything still felt normal. Stiles dragged himself out of bed around noon – which he congratulated himself for because, hey, that was early in his book – and shuffled around the house like a zombie until he had gone through his morning ritual. His dad was at work judging on the hastily scribbled note urging him to be good and get some fresh air since it was summer after all, which Stiles blatantly ignored before benching himself in front of the TV. Really, unless his dad was prepared to drag him outside himself Stiles was going to stay right where he was.

The hours crept by like they usually do during summer. Stiles was feeling bordering comatose, but that was the beauty of it. He could relax all he wanted. Derek's warning lingered at the back of his mind but the more time he spent pushing it away the easier it was to ignore. Surely Scott and Stiles wouldn't be the first to get involved considering that Derek was the residing alpha. Any pack who wanted to challenge Derek for the Hale territory would go for the alpha, right? Stiles decided to cling to that hope.

Scott texted him after he got off work around five saying that he would stop by at home to get his things before coming over. Stiles was totally down with that plan and sent his confirmation and blessing. He briefly considered leaving his spot on the couch to get some refreshments before laziness won out and he remained slouched on the soft cushions. He could get it when Scott came. Staying put was a much better idea.

Not to say that Stiles sat still by any definition of the word. His right leg kept bouncing up and down, beating out a rhythm against the floor, while his hands fiddled with his phone, flipping it back and forth. Stiles had never been particularly good at sitting still but that was not a requirement to feel relaxed – at least not for him. He was perfectly content. He just couldn't quite keep all that energy in check, Adderall or no Adderall.

After half an hour and no sign of Scott Stiles still wasn't worried. Scott might have decided to take a shower before leaving home. With his werewolf prowess Scott could usually bike between their houses in less than ten minutes if he wanted to, but he might have gotten hold up.

When the hour mark rolled around Stiles was beginning to fidget, throwing not so subtle glances at his phone, willing it to tell him why Scott wasn't there yet. Had Allison still been in the picture he would have suspected that Scott got sidetracked by a call or text from her but that was highly unlikely considering their break up. Perhaps Scott took a really long shower and decided to walk instead of biking over like a maniac?

After another half an hour Stiles was sure something had happened and he wasn't even pretending to watch whatever was on the TV. Scott had no reason to be this late and he wasn't replying to Stiles' texts that asked him where he was. Or the calls. Stiles had called three times already. Stiles might have been a pessimist but Derek's half assed warning rang out clearer and clearer for each minute that ticked by. This was not supposed to happen.

Stiles chewed on his bottom lip, leg bouncing faster and faster while he willed Scott to answer his fourth call. He didn't. Stiles hung up and took a deep breath while brushing a frustrated hand over his buzz cut. Okay, no reason to panic. Scott might just have gotten attacked by a rivaling gang of werewolves but nothing said that they had killed him.

Fine. It was okay to panic.

Stiles shot up from the couch and tried to keep all flailing limbs relatively unharmed as he dove for his keys and an extra layer to pull on top of his grey t-shirt. The days were hot and stifling but the temperature would start to drop soon in time with the setting sun. He performed an ungraceful interpretive dance routine while shrugging on a plaid shirt and stumbling for the door at the same time, barely avoiding braining himself on his way out.

His beloved and oh so trustworthy Jeep stood waiting for him in the driveway and Stiles threw himself into the driver's seat much faster than he thought possible. He was worried, very worried. Not only because he had been hoping that all of this would be over but because they had no idea what the werewolves wanted. Stiles might not trust Derek's judgment or information but he wasn't prepared to leave Scott hanging if anything had happened. If Stiles arrived at Scott's only to find that his best friend had managed to fall asleep or something there would be no happier person than Stiles, but he wasn't entirely sure if that was even within the realms of possibility here. Scott had promised to answer his phone more often and he hadn't. It had been over one and a half hour already. Something wasn't right.

The slight squeal from his tires when Stiles pulled out of the driveway made him cringe but he didn't really have the focus to worry about it. Nor was he particularly attentive when it came to the rules of the road – which his dad would have been terrified and terribly disappointed about – but he kept a reasonable pace considering that it might be a matter of life and death. He would be a kick ass ambulance driver if he ever got the chance to try it.

The McCall house was dark and looming when Stiles turned down the street and his breath hitched as he pulled up to the house and saw Scott's bike parked next to the porch as it usually was. That was not a good sign. He scrambled out of his Jeep, distantly noting that Mrs. McCall must be working a late shift that night, and ran to the front door.

He was almost on his way to fish around for the key he had had made when he noticed that the door wasn't locked. It wasn't even closed, in fact.

"Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!" he whispered under his breath before reaching out and pushing the door open with his fingertips.

It was a bad idea, he knew that. He had seen enough slasher movies to know that you never entered a dark, empty house in search for anything but he couldn't just leave either. Scott was definitely in trouble and Stiles had his back. Always.

He crept into the hall as silently as he could – that is to say, not at all – as his gaze flicked from object to object, trying to locate something out of place or order. Whatever had happened he imagined that Scott wouldn't have gone willingly or quietly so he quickly scanned the bottom floor, only to find that it looked peaceful and normal.

His heart had begun to thud rapidly in his chest but Stiles ignored it in favor of scaling the stairs and heading for Scott's room. He wasn't entirely sure what he would find or what to expect but the air was punched out from his lungs when he caught sight of the chaos in Scott's room.

It wasn't that much worse than any given day because hey, both Scott and Stiles were teenage boys and absolute slobs, but the overturned chair, books strewn all across the room and the mess of sheets and bedding on the floor suggested that something had gone down. Something very unfriendly.

"Oh fuck no."

Stiles rubbed a hand over his face before taking a deep breath. So someone had most likely taken Scott. The number of people – or werepeople – who could or would have done it were limited. Peter and Gerard were high on the list as well as the visiting werewolves. Okay, that was good. Limiting the suspect pool. Why was a different matter entirely and what they would do to him was something Stiles didn't even want to consider.

Instead he went about to search for Scott's phone, which he found underneath the messy bed. After fishing it out he ignored the notices of the missed calls and texts Scott had and went straight for his contact list.

Stiles wasn't stupid. He couldn't do this on his own. He was tempted to and would definitely have preferred it but if werewolves were involved – an entire pack of them even – he needed help. And Derek had always had that habit of bending over backwards to keep Scott safe if he could. They were in disagreement most of the time but it was obvious with his tenaciousness to bug Scott into joining his pack that Derek actually cared. More or less. And Stiles was definitely going to use that.

He found Derek listed as plain and simple 'Derek', which was incredibly boring and would be changed to 'Sourwolf' as soon as the situation wasn't so dire. Stiles tapped the call button and raised the phone to his ear, sitting on his knees in Scott's bedroom, staring at the mayhem while waiting for Derek to pick up.

"Scott."

Wow. Derek even sounded vaguely civil when he thought that he was answering one of Scott's calls. Stiles was so going to tease him about that later. Tease both Derek and Scott actually.

"Yeah, no. You're not that lucky."

Stiles could practically hear how the scowl settled over Derek's features and his lips twisted into a grimace.

"Stiles."

"Okay, that's not insulting at all. I'm actually not contagious, you know."

"I'm quite certain that you are."

Stiles had honestly given him that one, he could admit that. So to hide the fact that he might have been inches from losing a verbal battle with Mr. McScowlypants, which was scandalous in itself, Stiles did what Stiles does best – he ignored it and talked right over it.

"That's hurtful. But I'm honestly not making a social call here – or even a prank one." He took a shallow breath, just enough to keep going before Derek had time to interrupt him. "Scott's gone."

There was a moment of silence on the other end.

"What do you mean 'gone'?" Derek asked, voice measured and deceptively calm.

"I mean that he's almost two hours late to our meeting back at my place and his bike is still at his house and his room looks like a war zone." Stiles fiddled with a discarded sweater that lay next to his free hand, trying to suppress the panic that rose within him at having to verbalize that incredibly terrifying sentence. He was pretty certain that his heart was beating too fast for even Derek to differentiate one frantic beat from the next but if the werewolf wasn't going to mention it then Stiles wasn't going to either. "More than usual, that is."

"Do you-" Derek cut himself off and Stiles rolled his eyes, knowing quite well what Derek had intended to say.

"No, Derek, I can't smell anything unusual because I'm not a werewolf. Completely squishy human here, get with the program."

Sarcasm was good. It kept the panic at bay. Not that Stiles was panicking yet, not really, he was just very, very worried about something having happened to his best friend but he was working on a solution. Not even Stiles being annoying would keep Derek from helping, Stiles knew that.

"Get out of there and go home, Stiles."

Stiles frowned at the order, which he had no intention of obeying, thank you very much.

"What? No. Why would I?"

"Because you can't track him, can you?" Derek was gritting his teeth again but Stiles counted it as a win that the alpha hadn't just hung up on him yet. That was also very likely to happen.

"No, but I can help in other ways."

"Oh? Name one."

Stiles hated it when people asked for proof and examples like that.

"Comical relief?" It was the best he could do considering the circumstances.

"No."

"Fine! I have a car? Getaway vehicle, you know?" He was grappling for straws and he knew that. He didn't have much to offer in case of a supernatural werewolf brawl. He was most likely to run screaming in the other direction, as a matter of fact.

"Go _home_ , Stiles." Derek was clearly losing the small amount of patience he had.

"Geez! Who made you the boss of the operation?" Stiles fell silent and closed his eyes while rubbing his temple. "Okay, don't answer that. I know, you're the alpha and yadi-fucking-dah, as if that explains everything – which it doesn't, for your information."

"Stiles, you are wasting time. Scott's time."

That shut him up faster than anything else ever would. Derek was right, Stiles knew that, but he was worried and nervous and talking felt like a good solution. It always did. Talking was normal and filled all the awkward, pressing silences. Stiles liked to talk.

"We'll handle this," Derek reassured with a gruff voice but the thing was that it wasn't very reassuring at all.

When Derek hung up without any further words or even a goodbye – which was just rude – Stiles didn't feel the least bit calmer. Shit always happened when he wasn't around. Granted that it happened even if he _was_ around but then he was at least there to avert it too. So he might not be a werewolf with super strength but he wasn't completely useless. He refused to believe that considering how many times he had saved other people's lives. There had to be something he could do. He couldn't just leave Scott like this and go home to sit at his house, twiddling his thumbs. He would go nuts.

So he took a deep breath, braced himself against the panic and got to his feet. Screw Derek and his stupid orders. Stiles never did follow them anyway.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can expect a new chapter at least once a week. See you then!
> 
> Huge, enormous thanks to my beta, [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum)


	3. Bullet Tag

  


 

* * *

 

So maybe getting in on Scott's rescue missions wasn't as easy as Stiles would have liked. His first plan of action was to copy Derek's number to his own contact list because he wasn't going to steal Scott's phone on the off chance that Derek would call back – which Stiles was pretty certain that he wouldn't do – and besides, it would be good for future prank calls.

Stiles had had Derek's number briefly after the hospital visit where Stiles, the squishy human, had been sent in while Derek, the super strong werewolf, waited safely in the Jeep and ordered Stiles around over his phone. That little adventure had escalated into the least cheery family reunion Stiles had ever had the privilege of witnessing and him running for his life from obviously not-so-comatose Peter Hale. Stiles had kept Derek's number just in case but it had been lost somewhere along the way, possibly in the pool when Stiles' previous phone met its demise, and Stiles hadn't really bothered to mourn that fact or ask for it again. Derek would probably just have refused anyway.

His new contact was of course named 'Sourwolf' for the sake of hilarity but even more so for safety, just in case his dad ever searched his phone, for reasons unknown. The sheriff of Beacon Hills would probably not appreciate finding the number to one Derek Hale, former murder suspect and fugitive extraordinaire, on his underage son's phone. His dad's gun would most likely feature somewhere in the conversation that would follow that kind of discovery and it was definitely not on Stiles' to do-list.

After procuring Derek's number Stiles placed Scott's phone on the relatively uncluttered desk and looked around in the room. Had this been an episode of CSI he would immediately have spotted that miniscule speck of dust that would tell him in exactly what warehouse they were hiding Scott due to the chemical composition of said speck of dust, but Stiles wasn't that lucky. He didn't see anything that could reveal where Scott had been taken. Partly because Scott's room was messy to begin with but even more so because Stiles didn't know what to look for. Stupid cop shows made it look so easy.

Stiles sighed before turning on his heel and leaving the room. He wouldn't find anything of use but there was a chance that one of the baby betas would be sent to pick up on whatever scent trail Scott had left. Teaming up with whoever came to do that was definitely a better way to be included in the operation, even if it demanded Stiles begging on his knees at some point. Erica would definitely make him do that. Bloody she-wolf.

As luck would have it Isaac was the one who arrived to the McCall porch just as Stiles exited the front door. Isaac was Stiles' favorite werewolf besides Scott, no question about it. Erica and Boyd scared him but Isaac had softer sides Stiles could appeal to – especially since Isaac came down from his high of being a newly turned werewolf and unnecessarily violent. Granted that Isaac also had scary teeth and a leather fetish Derek probably had some kind of influence over, but Stiles could work with Isaac. He was reasonable and cared about Scott.

Stiles covered his initial reaction to do a triumphant fistpump with a casual and socially retarded wave instead. Nice going there.

"Uh... hi." Isaac seemed rather uncertain, if his confused frown was anything to go by.

"Isaac! Awesome! You're here to find Scott, right? I'll help you!"

The friendly pat on Isaac's upper arm and false cheer might have been a tad too much considering how Isaac inched backwards with a wary look on his face. Okay, not quite on the causal bro-touching level yet. Stiles could still work with this.

"Help with what?" Isaac asked, looking both confused, doubting and vaguely amused.

"Car! I have a car." Stiles gestured towards the car in question as if it was somehow a big reveal.

Isaac grinned and Stiles wasn't so sure that Isaac was his favorite werewolf besides Scott anymore. He had the distinct feeling that Isaac was mocking him.

"Derek told you to go home, didn't he?"

Stiles blinked and gaped for a moment or two before he found his wits again – and his sarcasm.

"You want a gold star with that?" Stiles drawled, utterly unimpressed.

Isaac shrugged, casual and easy, but his gaze flicked over the exterior of the house, as if he was trying to see what was inside. He didn't have the same poker face the other werewolves did but he was still a bit difficult to read at times. Stiles wet his lips.

"Okay look, the big bad alpha might have told me to do just that but you know where I'm coming from, right? You want to find Scott as much as I do. I know he's your new wolf bro and he's my best bro and I just can't go home and do nothing. Friends don't do that."

Stiles could see that Isaac was wavering, which wasn't a surprise because Stiles was pretty certain that Isaac was in fact a good guy. He'd had an incredibly rough life and gone batshit insane at his initial inclusion into the fangs and fleas-club but he was curious, eager to please and extremely loyal. He just needed somewhere to belong and while Derek might be Isaac's alpha Scott was the friend Isaac had decided to rely on. Isaac had to understand that he and Stiles were in the same boat.

"He didn't forbid me to go," Stiles added helpfully, spreading his arms in an appeasing gesture. Not that Stiles would have cared even if Derek had forbid him to do something but it probably mattered to Isaac, what with werewolf hierarchy and all. The curly haired werewolf smiled amusedly.

"Fine. But only because you have a car."

"Yes!" Stiles didn't even try to hide his fistpump that time and grinned towards Isaac. "You are literally the best, man. You are awesome."

Isaac perked up noticeably at the praise even if he still seemed a little guarded – bordering on suspicious. Stiles had to fight an urge to pet Isaac's head. He wanted to make that smile wider but he doubted that treating Isaac like a real puppy would be the way to go. But Isaac deserved all the praise and warmth he could get considering his past, as long as he had stopped trying to kill everyone. Killing and maiming was still bad.

"So! Do your wolfstuff!" Stiles made a flailing movement with his arms, gesturing towards the porch and house to indicate that Isaac should get to the sniffing part of their little operation. Isaac gave him an amused eye roll for that but did as he was told, which Stiles found secretly hilarious. He knew that Isaac was there to do it anyway but Stiles could at least pretend that he was some kind of wolf-whisperer, right? Because that would be so awesome.

'The wolfstuff' was quite unimpressive to witness. Stiles knew that there was a certain amount of skill and perception involved but to him it really just looked like Isaac sniffing the air with a contemplative look on his face. Which, if nothing else, looked quite adorable. Yeah, Isaac was definitely his favorite.

Isaac took a detour into the house to really get a feel for Scott's scent and what might have happened. Stiles wanted to tease him for smelling Scott's discarded clothes, so desperately, but he knew that his inclusion in their little adventure was not set in stone and even Isaac could change his mind, angelic face or not. Being human next to a group of werewolves wasn't exactly flattering and Stiles didn't have much to offer unless someone took pity on him and chose to include him. Or was so desperately in need of help that even Stiles seemed like a good option, like in Scott's case.

Stiles tried not to fidget too much as he allowed Isaac some moments to sniff the scene but he was growing impatient. The sooner they found Scott the sooner they could get him back and that meant less time for the perpetrators to hurt him.

"He was taken by werewolves. Three of them," Isaac reported over his shoulder, Stiles hovering in the doorway to Scott's room. As if he would have been able to remain on the porch while Isaac searched the house? No, not likely. He was hanging over Isaac's shoulder like a creepy shadow and the lack of reprimands really showed to Isaac's patience and strength of character. Isaac had grown up too.

Stiles swallowed harshly, trying not to let his panic run amok.

"Okay. Good. Good to know." Stiles didn't really know what else to offer at that point. He felt utterly useless.

"Derek, Erica and Boyd have been tracking the werewolves to try and find their hideout..."

"And you're going to try and track Scott," Stiles added, to which Isaac nodded.

"It's basically just a question of who finds them first but we will find them."

Stiles smiled briefly at Isaac's obvious attempt to cheer him up. The young werewolf was still rough around the edges and a little distant but definitely a good person. Stiles was prepared to blame Isaac's previous homicidal tendencies on the shock of becoming a werewolf and Derek's bad influence.

Stiles tilted his head to the side as a sudden thought struck him.

"Hey, why did you come alone? Wouldn't it have been better to make Erica or Boyd come with you?"

Isaac grimaced while scratching his neck.

"Derek doesn't quite... well, he doesn't trust Erica or Boyd."

"Tell me something I don't know. Derek doesn't trust anyone," was Stiles' knee-jerk answer.

"No, it's not that. Well, it's that too..." Isaac looked vaguely uncomfortable, as if he wasn't entirely sure if he should be discussing this with Stiles. Which he probably wasn't, which in turn made Stiles unbearably curious. "He still thinks they're going to leave."

Oh right, that thing where Erica and Boyd had intended to flee to avoid Gerard's murderous schemes. Not a bad plan but really awkward when you had to come back and ask to be included into the pack again, Stiles imagined.

"So they're with him because he wants to keep an eye on them?" Stiles asked, eyebrow raised doubtfully. "Well that's not creepy at all."

Isaac smiled crookedly but he wasn't disagreeing. Stiles took that as a win.

"But yeah, I get it. Erica and Boyd are in the time out corner. Check." Stiles did a dorky thumbs up and managed to tease a small chuckle out of Isaac. That counted as another win, Stiles was sure. "So! Car? You got the scent? The trail? The-... whatever you call it?"

Stiles pulled out his keys after a confirming nod from Isaac's and both headed for the Jeep, kind enough to lock the front door on their way out. Mrs. McCall would probably appreciate not having her house looted while they were gone.

Stiles could tell that Isaac looked slightly dubious as to whether Stiles' beloved Jeep was an acceptable mean of transportation or not, but this was coming from a guy who hung out at a dingy, abandoned train depot. So Stiles just shot him a warning glare to which Isaac raised his hands in surrender and climbed into the passenger seat. Perhaps Stiles really was a wolf-whisperer?

The ride was silent apart from Isaac's occasional instructions to turn or go slower. Stiles really wasn't in the mood for talking and he figured that he'd shut up for once and let Isaac concentrate. There was no way for him to stop drumming his fingers against the steering wheel though and Isaac seemed to tolerate it despite the small twitch in his jaw.

Stiles being worried could often be mistaken for nerves but Isaac could probably smell the fear on him. It was easy to do the same banter and routine as always – to cover up his anxiety with witty words and sharp sarcasm – but Stiles was nearing his limit. Scott hadn't been gone long, he knew that, but if it was a pack that came to take over the territory they had no reason to keep him alive unless they were trying to recruit him.

Stiles blinked and made a surprised little swerve on the road. Isaac's attention snapped back to Stiles and the werewolf looked equally surprised and worried. Stiles eased up on the pedal until the Jeep slowed down to a crawl.

"Sorry! Sorry..." Stiles almost took his hands off the wheel to make apologizing gestures but stopped himself in time. "I just... they probably took him because he's an omega, right?"

Isaac blinked and seemed to consider this for a brief moment before he nodded.

"Makes sense. Since he's not a part of a pack they might try to include him in theirs, make them stronger." Isaac took a deep breath. "That's what I would do."

Stiles nodded while gnawing on his bottom lip.

"Yeah, yeah... exactly. Hey, did anyone warn Jackson about this new pack? He's also an omega, right?" Stiles couldn't believe that he somehow remembered to be concerned about Jackson of all people in a situation like this, but he could admit that it was mainly because he was worried about Lydia, not her douchebag of a boyfriend.

"Uh... no one told him as far as I know. He's not exactly friendly with us at the moment..."

"Great. Okay." Stiles took a deep breath. "One thing at a time. Scott first then I'll talk to Lydia."

"Lydia?" Isaac sounded confused.

"Yeah, Jackson's girlfriend, remember? Who literally saved his life with her love and devotion? Lydia, a goddess amongst us regular people?" So maybe Stiles was still a little hooked on her. He couldn't be blamed for that. Everybody should worship Lydia. "She's the one in charge when it comes to keeping Jackson in check so she needs to be informed and can relay the information to him as she sees fit. Besides, she's easier to talk to than Mr. McDouche."

Isaac gave an amused huff but didn't answer. Stiles took that as his cue to speed up a little and allow the tracking to continue.

It could almost have been a fun excursion if it hadn't been for the crushing worry for his best friend. Tracking Lydia with the help of Scott when they thought that she was out chewing on people was bad enough, trying to find Scott when he might or might not be on his way to be forcibly included in a pack out to kill his friends and classmates was terrifying.

Isaac's nose eventually lead them away from the inhabited parts of Beacon Hills and closer to the woods. Stiles grimaced as he pulled to a stop on the side of the small dirt road he was driving along.

"Aw no, come on! Why is it always the woods? Really? Why can't they hide in a nice little house in town? Why the woods? There are monsters out there."

"And the majority of them go to your school," Isaac replied with a grin before he got out of the Jeep, clearly prepared to continue with the tracking on foot. Stiles muttered obscenities under his breath while climbing out of the car, grateful for his long sleeved shirt.

The sun had set while they were driving around tracking Scott and while it was far from cold Stiles had a feeling that they would be out here for quite a while. He stumbled after Isaac as the werewolf made his way into the woods and tried his best to be quiet. He didn't manage very well at all. He did keep his mouth shut though and his gaze flicked from the ground before him to Isaac's back, just to make sure that he didn't lose sight of his guide somehow.

At one point Stiles slipped and staggered but managed to right himself before falling. Isaac did a very poor job of hiding his amused snort and Stiles felt the need to defend his masculinity.

"Shut up! It's not my fault I'm not supernaturally enhanced!" he hissed while waving dramatically in the air, stomping after Isaac with a little more force than needed.

"No, it's more like you're genetically incapable of being stealthy," Isaac whispered back with glee.

"Oh shut up, you puppy! I am mighty stealthy! I'm Batman!" Stiles grumbled sullenly but Isaac of course heard him with his frankly unfair advantage of having super senses.

"You're Robin if anything."

Stiles spluttered in offense.

"Am not! I could totally be Batman! I mean, I'm the one with-"

Isaac didn't even have to raise his hand before Stiles came to an abrupt halt, both in terms of movement and talking. In the distance, not too far from where they were, a deep howl echoed between the trees, causing a shiver down Stiles' spine.

"That's Derek. They've found them," Isaac announced before he took off like a man possessed.

"Whu- what?" Stiles flailed unhelpfully before managing to force his body into movement and follow. Not to say that he was anywhere near Isaac because it had taken the werewolf less than a second to get a considerable head start, but Stiles hadn't lost him either. He was very grateful for that.

Isaac seemed to know exactly where he was going so Stiles kept his gaze focused on him and tried his best not to fall flat on his face. It went surprisingly well and soon Stiles could hear the growling and snarling that Isaac had probably been locked on to ever since the howl. Stiles knew that he would have to stay back as soon as they found the werewolves – he should probably have been running in the opposite direction even, _away_ from the danger – but he was definitely not going to be idle if he could help somehow.

The scenery flashed by in his peripheral vision but considering the thickening darkness he couldn't make out much besides trees and more trees. Isaac was getting further and further ahead but it proved to be a minor issue since they soon reached the small clearing where a full on brawl had commenced.

Stiles was panting slightly by then but not enough to make him feel bothered or tired, but that might have been the adrenaline talking. His gaze searched for Scott in the mess of clawed limbs and sharp teeth and managed to locate him at the opposite end of the clearing. Naturally.

Scott seemed to be doing fine though, if his opponent's state was anything to go by. A quick assessment of the situation informed Stiles that there were indeed three foreign werewolves involved in the fighting. Despite Boyd's strength and Erica's agility the two of them were having obvious difficulties with the werewolf they were fighting since she seemed to have more experience and skill. They weren't losing per se but not winning either.

Isaac jumped straight to helping Scott despite the fact that he held his own against the second werewolf without problem and Derek took care of the third one. Quite literally, Stiles noticed, when the werewolf was thrown across the clearing and into a tree with a sickening crunch. You could say a lot about Derek but he was one lean mean killing machine.

Stiles grit his teeth and quickly scanned the ground until he found a medium sized rock that fit neatly in his hand. It wasn't even good enough to be called a weapon but it did serve as a decent distraction when he threw it at the werewolf who was inches from snapping her jaws around Boyd's arm. The she-wolf stumbled, snarled and whirled to face Stiles instead, which was a very stupid move considering that it gave Erica an opening to tackle her to the ground with a feral growl. Stiles would have enjoyed the catfight that followed between the two gorgeous female werewolves if it wasn't for the fact that they were actually out to hurt each other – possibly kill someone.

Scott and Isaac's opponent stumbled backwards while Boyd tried to help Erica, which proved difficult with how the two she-wolves rolled around on the ground, snapping and cursing at each other. Derek seemed just about ready to intervene when Stiles saw the alpha freeze, his head snapping to the side, red eyes staring out into the woods.

"Get down!"

Even Stiles knew to follow that particular order even if it came from Derek, but he did it with far less grace than the werewolves. A series of shots rang out, bullets whistling between the trees and over their heads. Stiles took a gasping breath where he lay on the ground. Hunters. Really? Hunters too? Would the shit never end? Had Chris Argent gone completely insane? Or were these other hunters?

"Get out of here!" Derek roared, probably to his baby betas, taking the shift in the situation with annoying ease.

Someone tugged at Stiles' shirt and he might or might not have given an unmanly squeak when he was hoisted to his feet in one fell swoop. Hands urged him to start running and considering the bullets shooting through the air he was totally okay with that plan. Stiles gave Erica a sideways glance, surprised to find that she was the one who had helped him up, but he had no time to thank her. He would remember to do that later though.

Werewolves, no matter their loyalties, scattered out amongst the trees to avoid the hunters and Stiles managed to catch Scott's gaze, get a confirming, reassuring nod before they both had to change course and disappear into the night. It wasn't ideal – Stiles wanted Scott to be running beside him, not Erica – but Scott was okay. That would have to be enough. They had gotten there in time. Now they had to focus on the new threat, but the upside was that the other werewolves were running as well.

Stiles had no idea how many hunters there were but the woods had erupted into complete chaos. Friendly and unfriendly werewolves were running, hunters were chasing after them guns ablaze and somewhere there in the middle you had Stiles, pale, weak little human.

He lost track of Erica when he had to make a sharp turn to avoid stumbling over a fallen tree and didn't have the time to turn and search for her. He had a feeling that the hunters wouldn't stop to ask if he was human before they fired, making him just as big a target as the others and significantly more likely to die. Not the most cheerful thought he had ever had.

A bullet lodged into a tree by his head as if to confirm his suspicion and he gave a startled noise when he stumbled straight into someone noticeably more humanoid. A snarl alerted him that it was a werewolf and when he looked up he recoiled on pure reflex.

"Whoa! Shit, fuck! Definitely wrong werewolf!" he shouted while reeling away from the she-wolf Erica had been fighting with. She seemed keen on following him but another shot forced her to head in the other direction and Stiles, well, he just kept on running.

It took several more minutes of fleeing before Stiles seemed to be out of immediate danger but the downside was that he wasn't entirely certain of where he had ended up either. He had just gone where his feet took him and he had no idea if he was deeper into the woods or closer to civilization. Great. He survived a werewolf brawl and gun wielding hunters only to get lost in the forest to die from starvation. That sounded just like Stiles. Or Scott. Possibly more like Scott.

Stiles slowed his pace, trying to get his bearings and calm his frantically beating heart, but that last step was difficult with all the adrenaline that was still pumping through his veins. He didn't see anything he recognized but neither did he hear or see any hunters, which was definitely a plus. He was panting pretty badly by then and began jogging in a random direction, not wanting to linger too long in one place, just in case the hunters were canvassing the area. He hoped that Scott would somehow remember to look for Stiles but that could take a while so Stiles tried to keep himself optimistic in the meantime. A werewolf of a friendlier disposition had to find him eventually.

The thought had barely crossed his mind before a hand clamped down on the back of his shirt and another landed across his mouth. Which was probably for the best because Stiles was definitely prepared to squeal like a dying pig if he had to and that would have been slightly embarrassing considering that it was Derek who was staring back at him.

Stiles briefly entertained the notion of licking Derek's palm because, really, you were practically offering when placing your hand over someone else's mouth like that, but the alpha's eyes were already glowing red and Stiles would probably lose a limb or two if he did. Derek was giving him a warning glare that clearly stated that if Stiles so much as uttered a word after he removed his hand there would be an intimate meeting between Derek's fangs and Stiles' throat – and not in a good, sexy way. Not that Stiles thought that anything Derek did was sexy. Nope and ew. Or well, some things, a little maybe, but now was clearly not the time.

Derek lowered his hand while glancing around and used the grip on Stiles' shirt to force him to move. Which, really, Stiles had actually been doing that before Derek interrupted. He didn't have to be so rude about it.

"I told you to go home." Derek's voice was a low growl but Stiles had no problem hearing it.

"And you honestly thought that I would listen? Dude. Not even you are that stupid."

Stiles didn't have to see Derek's face to know that the alpha was pressing his lips together into a thin line while scowling like he was born to do it. And he probably was.

"We had it under control."

"Until the hunters arrived."

"Well, it's not like I invited them," Derek snarled back, still steering Stiles with the grip around his shirt. Stiles tried to shrug it off but the only thing that got him was a warning shake, as if he was a puppy who had misbehaved. And perhaps he was. A little.

"You really suck, you know that, right?" Stiles huffed defiantly. "You could have warned us earlier! We got like one day to prepare for something like this! Not even that!"

Derek finally let go of Stiles' shirt and Stiles tried to pretend that he didn't stumble as soon as he was forced to walk entirely on his own. It was a very strange sensation. He turned half way, so that he would be able to walk and glance in Derek's direction at the same time. The alpha seemed suitably annoyed but his eyes had returned to their normal color.

"I couldn't have known that they would take Scott."

They were clearly incapable of communicating in any other way than arguing and driving each other up the wall.

"But they did! And have you warned Jackson? Because I'm pretty sure they'll be gunning for him next!" Stiles waved his arms in frustration. "They're probably targeting omegas to include into their own pack."

If Derek agreed to this statement in any way he didn't show it, nor did he indicate whether he had suspected the same or if Stiles was the first to utter it. It was pretty frustrating. Instead of an actual reply the alpha just gave Stiles that patented 'shut the fuck up, Stiles'-glare that he had. Stiles scoffed.

"Don't worry about it. I'll talk to Lydia. I'll probably have more luck than you anyway," Stiles sneered before he turned to continue walking.

It wasn't until he had taken a couple of steps that he realized that he had no idea in which direction to go now that Derek wasn't showing him, but he wasn't going to voice that out loud. Derek probably didn't know either. He was just trying to look cool. Probably.

Stiles had to admit his defeat a moment later when he noticed that Derek was heading in another direction than he was and had to make a decision on whether to continue on his own or follow Derek. After a spastic twitch he hastily stumbled back to the alpha's side.

He grit his teeth and glared at Derek, who seemed just about as grumpy and blank as always, with his hands tucked away in the pockets of his leather jacket. There was a slightly different curve to his mouth thought and Stiles just knew that Derek was holding back a smug smile. Bastard. Who wore leather in the summer anyway? Derek was clearly not in his right mind.

The woods were silent except for the rustles their footsteps caused in the sparse undergrowth – mostly by Stiles – but it was pretty obvious that they weren't safe just yet. Stiles couldn't hear any gunfire or howling wolves and if Derek did he didn't show it. Stiles did trust that the alpha would warn him if anyone approached though, considering his superhuman hearing.

"Sooo..." If there was a silence Stiles felt a need to fill it. Especially in the company of Derek Hale because they weren't quite on friendly terms and it was all a little awkward. Stiles didn't like this kind of awkward. "You still living in a rusty old train?"

Derek didn't look his way or indicated that he had even heard that Stiles asked him a question. He just kept on walking. Rude.

"Why are you so obsessed with leather jackets?"

Still no reply. If Derek thought that ignoring Stiles would make him go away he was sorely mistaken.

"How's your undead uncle?"

Okay, not even Stiles wanted Derek to answer that and luckily enough he didn't.

"Ever considered just _not_ being so cranky all the time? It would really-"

"Stiles, shut up," Derek said through clenched teeth and with a smidgeon of warning.

Stiles couldn't figure out why Derek kept saying that as if he honestly expected Stiles to obey. Stiles actually knew the value of silence and didn't feel forced to fill it all the time but he liked words. They had such nice ring to them and could mean so much. Derek, on the other hand, hadn't even learned how to use the few he had. It was quite tragic actually.

"I mean, not even you can be grumpy all the time," Stiles continued, heedless of Derek's warning, "it wouldn't hurt you to smile, you know. Smiling is actually-"

Derek growled wordlessly and gave him that glare he only ever directed at Stiles, lips tight, jaws clenched and furrowed brows. Stiles was just about to open his mouth to give a scathing reply but he found himself sucking in a surprised gasp instead, eyes widening when a loud bang rang out in the otherwise silent night. Stiles recoiled and Derek went down.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... you might have to be prepared for a couple of cliff hangers every now and then. They seem to happen when I'm not looking.
> 
> And I want to point out that I most certainly don't share the views expressed here when it comes to Stiles' usefulness, but I have a feeling that Stiles might be a little low on self-confidence at the moment.  
> That will be rectified soon enough though, starting with the next chapter, where some serious ass kicking is due (at least in a figurative sense).
> 
> See you next time!
> 
> And don't forget to give my beta[CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum) some love!


	4. Wolf Boy

  


 

* * *

 

"Shit!" Stiles changed direction mid recoil and dove to Derek's side instead, kneeling on the ground next to the fallen werewolf. The alpha was hissing in pain with his right hand pressed tightly against his left shoulder, blood oozing out from between his fingers. "Oh my God _why_ do you have to get _shot_ all the time?!"

"Stiles, get down!"

A sharp yank on his collar made Stiles tip forward, a bullet whistling over his head as he went. Derek's fingers left bloody fingerprints on the plaid but that was definitely the least of Stiles' worries. He grabbed as much of the alpha as he could without hurting him and tried to drag Derek to his feet. It was like trying to budge a rock – a heavy, hard rock – and Stiles was successful only because Derek had enough strength to help.

Stiles got a creepy sense of déjà vu as he tried to keep the stumbling werewolf upright but unlike the time by the pool with the kanima Stiles couldn't loop Derek's arm around his own shoulder and get a good grip. They might have been just about equally tall, Derek having only an inch or two on Stiles, but Derek's extra bulk was making it difficult to keep both of them from swaying on their feet.

Derek was still putting pressure on his wound and Stiles did his best to keep his head down while dragging Derek anywhere but there. He had no idea where the shot had come from but since Derek wasn't shouting at him to go in another direction he assumed that he wasn't running straight towards the hunters.

A growl caused Derek's entire chest to rumble and the vibration transferred to Stiles in the most peculiar way. It kind of tickled. A gunshot made them both duck but it must have missed since neither of them screamed in pain. Stiles tried to pick up the pace.

"It's-... wolfsbane," Derek squeezed forth between clenched teeth.

"Of course it had to be wolfsbane!" Stiles exclaimed, slipping on the treacherous footing but by some kind of miracle managing not to drag Derek or himself to the ground. "It's close to your heart. How long do you have?"

"Don't know." Derek's responses were shorter than usual, no doubt due to him trying to bite back the pain. "Few hours... not long."

That was just great. They had almost been safe. Stiles wanted to blame Derek for not having seen it coming but at the same time he knew that he had been the one to distract the werewolf from their surroundings. Derek had no doubt been more focused on Stiles than listening for hunters.

Another bullet sailed through the air, followed quickly by another, and Stiles didn't know if it was just his imagination or if the hunters were actually gaining on them. He guessed on the latter because he and Derek weren't moving nearly fast enough to outrun anyone.

Stiles skidded to a sudden halt when he saw a movement in the corner of his eye – a person – and a violent pull made sure that Derek was out of the incoming bullets trajectory, clearing the path so that it hit a tree several yards away instead. He tried to change direction but Derek was getting weaker by the second, eyes flickering red at uneven intervals, and Stiles himself was shaking from the exertion and adrenaline. Stiles took a step forward, changed his mind when he saw the dark silhouette of a hunter straight ahead and tried to back up instead. He bumped into Derek and this time the alpha lost his balance, both of them tumbling to the ground in an ungraceful pile of limbs and frantic movement.

Stiles was for once the first to gain his bearings, sitting on the forest floor, and when he saw that three figures were approaching quickly through the darkened woods he did the only thing he could think of doing – he threw up his hands and panicked.

"Whoa! Wow! No! Human, human, human! Human! Completely human here!"

He could feel the warmth of Derek against his back and Stiles quickly, instinctively, inched to the right so that he was shielding more of Derek's body with his own. He could hear on the alpha's growl that he realized what Stiles was doing but the hunters seemed to hesitate and no one had shot him yet.

Stiles wasn't nearly big enough to cover Derek for real, even when the werewolf was hunching on the ground, but it was enough to keep someone from shooting unless they wanted to harm Stiles as well. He would just have to hope that no one was approaching them from behind.

Derek made a weak, pathetic attempt to push Stiles off but he just pressed closer, his determination easily overpowering the alpha's strength for once. He could do this. He could save them. Hopefully.

Stiles was still holding out his hands, making sure that the hunters saw that he was unarmed, when the first of them spoke.

"You're saying that you're human, son?"

Stiles swallowed nervously, his hands shaking noticeably. He was going to die. He had no weapons, Derek was shot and weak – so weak that he wasn't even able to protest against Stiles protecting him like a human shield – and he had no idea whether these hunters were like Chris or Gerard Argent. The outcome of the whole standoff depended on that. So far they seemed to be leaning towards Chris Argent but he couldn't count on it.

Stiles cleared his throat and looked at the hunter who had spoken. He stood in the middle, taller than the other two, and was a man judging on his size and the timbre of his voice.

"Yeah..." If Stiles sounded a little breathless and his voice wavered, well, no one could blame him. At least Derek was the only one who could hear his rapid, frightened heartbeat. "Yeah, I am. Completely human."

"And the one you're protecting?" asked another voice, a female hunter to the left. Stiles couldn't quite make out their features in the dark but their voices and body types gave him clues. He was pretty certain that he didn't recognize either of them though so they had to be new in the area.

"He's-..." Stiles hesitated but Derek made the decision for him by growling like a savage. Stiles reached back with one of his arms to push Derek down, closer to the ground and away from sight. He could almost hear the hunters' fingers squeezing their triggers while Derek gave an insulted snarl.

"Step away from the wolf, son." The first hunter again, probably the oldest and seemingly the leader.

Stiles laughed nervously.

"Heh, yeah, no. Can't do that I'm afraid."

The woman suddenly lit a flashlight and before Stiles had time to recoil or close his eyes she flicked it so that it shone right at his face for a brief, agonizing second.

"Shit! Hey! Cut that out!" Stiles had never been known for keeping his mouth shut when he should. The sudden explosion of light made bright spots dance across his vision long after she had clicked the flashlight off again. He couldn't see a thing.

"He's human."

Oh right, checking to see if his eyes reflected the light. That was actually pretty smart. He had to remember that for his own use later. It still meant that he had to fight an urge to rub his eyes until they readjusted to the natural darkness again though. Which sucked.

He could feel Derek's ribcage expand and contract each time the alpha breathed and Stiles was pretty certain that the rhythm was a bit too shallow to be healthy. They didn't have much time judging on Derek's silence. The alpha would never have accepted this unless he was really sick. Stiles needed to get Derek out of there, preferably to Deaton's.

"Get out of the way," the third hunter, a man, spoke for the first time, sounding a lot less patient than the other two. Stiles shook his head and braced his arms so that he was shielding Derek further.

He was an idiot. He was literally setting himself up to get shot in order to save Derek's life. Derek, who might not even survive the wolfsbane poisoning he was currently fighting off. Stiles should really look into his priorities.

"Son, running with wolves is a very bad idea."

"Oh, I already know _that_ ," Stiles replied, voice shaky but with a mocking twist. His sight had almost gone back to normal but some bright spots were still blinking merrily across his field of vision.

"Then step away and let us take care of him."

Stiles felt his heart skip a beat and if Derek's little twitch was anything to go by he heard it as well. The alpha probably thought that Stiles was about to sell him out or something, but that really wasn't why Stiles felt his chest constrict. Not at all.

He shook his head again.

"Son, don't make us shoot you."

"You won't," Stiles replied immediately. "You follow the code. The code says to only hunt those who hunt you and only if they're of age. I'm a teenaged human. You can't shoot me."

He was going out on a limb but judging on the hunters' unwillingness to shoot him so far he assumed that they were in fact loyal to the code. They _couldn't_ shoot him.

"We'll drag you off him if we have to." The impatient one again. Stiles forced himself to laugh but it sounded more like a choked gasp. Derek was practically vibrating behind him, no doubt feeling frustrated by his lack of control over the situation, or his own body for that matter. Derek must hate being saved by Stiles like this. But the alpha kept quiet, despite how much pain he had to be in.

"You're not going to do that either. As soon as you come close he's going to jump at you, gunshot wound or not. You know that. And I'm not moving on my own." Stiles swallowed, gathering his courage for one of the single most stupid things he would ever do in his entire life. "So go right ahead. You can either shoot me, pull me away or just leave. I'd go with the third option if I were you. I'm not moving and my wolf friend here won't let you come close."

At least Stiles hoped that Derek wouldn't let them, because it was for his sake, not Stiles'. They wouldn't harm Stiles, that much was clear, but if they got to Derek they would kill him. As if to show his support Derek growled low in his throat, thick and menacing in a way that sent an odd thrill down Stiles' spine. It was probably just for show but sounded very impressive none the less.

"Listen to that, son. He's a beast."

"And the beast apparently wants you to leave so I suggest that you do what he says," Stiles snapped back, trying to keep his breathing steady. He almost had them. He could feel it. He just needed a few more arguments to win them over. "The werewolves here do not hunt people. Go ask Chris Argent. He'll tell you that the local pack hasn't killed anyone."

At least not anyone who didn't deserve it. Victoria Argent was a special case because while Derek had been the one who bit her she was the one who had made the decision to kill herself rather than turn into a werewolf. Or perhaps Gerard orchestrated that as well but either way, Derek had done it only to save Scott. Stiles knew that and could understand Derek's actions even if he didn't condemn or condone them.

"I don't know why you're here..." Stiles continued before taking a deep breath, "but I'm going to go out on a limb and assume that you followed the intruding pack. They're the ones you're really hunting. Well, this wolf here is from the local pack and they haven't done anything. You can't kill him."

Stiles could practically feel Derek weakening for each second that passed and he had to grit his teeth not to hurry this along too much. Stiles was smart. Stiles had brains. He could handle this. He could talk them out of the situation.

The hunters were hesitating, the two younger apparently looking to the eldest for directions. Stiles held his breath, his heart hammering in uneven, shallow beats in his chest. He felt like he was moments from a heart attack.

"We will talk to Argent..." the older man said eventually and Stiles almost sighed in relief, "but we won't promise not to shoot next time we see one of the wolves."

"Yeah, okay, I get that," Stiles replied breathlessly. They would just have to be more careful.

The oldest hunter gave a brief nod before turning on his heel. The woman followed immediately but the impatient hunter lingered long enough to give them a parting shot.

"Congratulations, wolf boy. You bought him another hour or two. Then he'll just die from the bullet instead."

Stiles stifled his urge to snarl something insulting, not wanting to give the hunters a reason to linger. He settled for watching them leave instead. They couldn't do it fast enough in his opinion.

He remained seated on the ground, still covering Derek's body with his own, watching the hunters as they moved further and further away. When the three dark silhouettes bled into the shadows in the distance Stiles allowed himself to relax, waiting for some kind of sign from Derek that would tell him that it was okay to move. Derek was the one who could hear if the hunters had really left after all.

The woods were silent again until Derek spoke.

"Don't you ever-..." Derek drew a shallow breath, "... do that again..."

Stiles let out a barking laugh that sounded too sharp and frightened for his taste. He rubbed a shaking hand over his own face, pretending that he wasn't feeling faint and utterly spent.

"Dude, if we ever end up in this situation again I will definitely leave you bleeding on the ground while I run for safety. Don't worry."

"Idiot," Derek grit out, but he did seem a little more energetic as he started making attempts to straighten out after Stiles had shoved him to the ground.

"Yeah, yeah..." Stiles grinned and got to his feet, shaky and unstable as they might be. "Up you go, Sourwolf. We need to get you to Deaton's as soon as possible."

The only answer he got was a grumpy grumble but, then again, this was Derek. So Stiles took it as a yes.

 

 

"There's nothing I can do."

"What?" Stiles waved his arms frantically at Deaton. "What do you mean there's nothing you can do? You're the supervet! You have to help him!"

Stiles gestured towards Derek who was sitting on a chair, swaying dangerously due to his weakened state. Derek didn't even seem to have the strength to scowl which was a clear sign that he was in fact dying.

"Stiles, unless I have the exact type of wolfsbane they used I will only make it worse."

"Shit!" Stiles kept himself from kicking the wall only out of respect for Scott's boss. He licked his lips before turning to Derek with a cheerful smile and a quick salute. "Well, Derek, it was nice knowing you! As much as I love putting my life in danger for you – because I do, really – I can't help you anymore. So have a nice death and perhaps look into that thing your uncle did to come back to life? It could work twice, who knows?"

Derek's glare was a weak and pathetic imitation of his once so terrifying stare. It was actually quite depressing to watch.

The alpha had discarded his leather jacket and shirt, sitting half naked at the vet's clinic while Deaton estimated the damage. Stiles tried to keep himself from staring at the black veins and icky goo around the gunshot wound but it was like a car crash – disgusting and horrible but so fascinating that you just couldn't stop. But he really tried. Being caught staring at Derek wasn't something he wanted to live through after all. And it wasn't his fault if Derek being shirtless made Stiles quite self conscious. Anyone would feel inadequate in comparison.

"Stiles, it's not too late," Deaton said in that calm, placating tone of his that was so infuriating to someone who didn't want to calm down. Someone like Stiles.

"You're telling me that I dragged his wolfy ass through the forest, let him bleed all over my upholstery and now you can't even help him? How is that good?"

It had been a great effort and included a lot of stumbling and grunting but Stiles had managed to get Derek to his Jeep – directions given by the werewolf in the duo – and then driven to the clinic. Keeping the speed limit had been optional. The fact that Deaton was still there that late at night had struck Stiles as slightly odd but he wasn't going to question it. Not when they needed the vet's help.

"I never said that it was good, I just said that it's not too late," Deaton replied patiently while he stepped away from the alpha. "The bullet didn't go through so I will have to dig it out, but without the wolfsbane it won't make much of a difference."

"Yeah, good luck with that." Stiles was not optimistic. Not one bit. Mostly because he had to handle this on his own.

He had tried to call Scott on the way over to the animal clinic but there had been no answer. Stiles honestly understood that because Scott might not have gotten home to his phone yet. Just because Stiles and Derek ran into three hunters didn't mean that there weren't more and some might have chased after Scott, forcing him to lay low. It was actually pretty likely. Stiles didn't even want to think of the possibility of Scott having gotten hurt or captured by the hunters. Nope, he was not going there.

Stiles had already asked if Derek had the number to either of his little betas – who really were more equipped to handle this situation – but apparently the big bad werewolf had left his phone at home. And Stiles had no means to contact them. He had wanted to hiss at Derek to just howl for them but he knew that hunters would probably come running in that case so no, Stiles had to handle this on his own. And boy, he really wasn't up for it.

"If you could find the hunters-"

"Find them?!" Stiles exclaimed, making a sweep with his arms while laughing a little hysterically. "I just got away from them! Besides, I'm human. I can't track them and I don't know where they're staying. So no. I can't. They'll kill me!"

Derek raised an eyebrow at that because he if anyone knew that the hunters wouldn't kill Stiles. He had already managed to talk himself out of one situation where they threatened to hurt him. Stiles glared right back at Derek, secretly having hoped that the alpha would have been too weak to bother getting involved in the conversation.

"Argent..." Derek huffed and both Stiles and Deaton frowned, which earned them an eye roll from the alpha. "You told them... to go to Chris Argent."

Derek locked gazes with Stiles while doing some silent communication thing that Stiles, sadly enough, managed to interpret. By God, Stiles was beginning to talk Derek. He might need to commit ritual suicide for that.

Derek apparently wanted him to go to the Argent house because the odds that the new hunters would be there were pretty great, since Stiles had literally sent them there. And yes, the reasoning was solid but Stiles really didn't understand how he was supposed to pull that off.

"I can't just sneak in there and steal a bullet from them, even if they are there!" he spluttered, followed by more spastic gestures. His hands were shaking but he tried to cover it up by constantly moving them. Cold chills traveled down Stiles' spine and his chest felt surprisingly tight. He didn't like this one bit.

"No, but you can talk to them, ask them to give you a bullet," Deaton suggested, unhelpfully.

"Really?" Stiles made sure to sound as scathing as he possibly could. "You call that a plan? I go to a house full of people with guns – who are also prepared and trained to use said guns – to _talk_ to them? They're not going to listen to me! Why would they listen to me? I wouldn't know what to say!"

"That's-... a first," Derek grit out with a smirk and really, wasn't he dying yet? Shouldn't Derek stop trying to be funny sometime soon? Stiles glared at them both.

"You suck. Both of you. That's not even a plan. Scott has better plans than that."

"Do you have a better suggestion?" Deaton sounded honestly interested but he wasn't fooling Stiles. It was the kind of question you asked someone you just wanted to shut up in order to make them agree. Stiles was very used to those kinds of questions in all of their variations.

"Let him die?" he motioned towards Derek with one of his hands. "I mean, you've had a good life, right? Filled with lots of happiness, sunshine and loving family mem-"

He fell silent, a lump of guilt lodging on his throat. Okay, that was not okay. Not even a little bit. Derek didn't seem hurt, only angry, but that wasn't exactly healthy either. It was probably some sort of self-defense mechanism the alpha had perfected over the years. Stiles didn't even have to see the disapproving look on Deaton's face to know that he had stepped over the line – far over it.

He swallowed and glanced down at his feet, his hand lowering.

"Sorry..." It was the best he could manage with his own embarrassment making him feel like an asshole.

It was one thing not to like Derek but another one entirely to remind him off his murdered family and try to use it as an argument for why he should let himself die. That was just low. Stiles knew what it was like to lose one parent and he couldn't even imagine what it would feel like to lose every family member you've had except for your crazy uncle who also murdered your sister. Come to think of it, Derek was pretty amazing for even getting up in the morning.

Stiles' gaze flicked to the black pattern of poisoned veins, swollen and pulsing under Derek's skin. It looked revolting and Stiles was pretty certain that it had to feel even worse. Derek was doing surprisingly well considering how fast he had deteriorated last time – when the shot had been in the arm – but perhaps it was thanks to him being an alpha now. He was still weak to the poison but handled it a little better. Alphas were, in Stiles experience, pretty hard to kill and Derek had been incredibly resilient even before he got his upgrade in status.

Deaton cleared his throat, signaling that that particular subject was over – which Stiles was infinitely grateful for – and nodded towards Stiles.

"They won't hurt you. The worst thing that can happen is that they throw you out."

"But that might hurt! Do I have to?" Stiles knew that he was whining but he also knew that he had lost the argument. He had to at least try to find the hunters. Besides, there was no guarantee that they would be at the Argent house, in which case it wasn't his fault if he couldn't find them. That was good.

Deaton gave him an even stare, not judgmental perhaps but still evaluating.

"You'll do fine. Ask them to reconsider and give you a bullet. Now go." Deaton turned to Derek again. "We'll be ready when you get back."

Deaton's trust in Stiles was both surprising and a little annoying. If he was so certain that the frankly horrible plan would work then perhaps he should do it himself.

But Stiles would never say that. Instead he gave a displeased huff and headed for the door. If Derek didn't survive this Stiles was going to be so mad.

 

 

Stiles pulled over and parked his Jeep across the street from the Argent house. His hands were gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary and he took a moment to just lean his forehead against it, catching his breath and trying to calm his heartbeat. This was such a bad idea.

He could see more cars than usual parked outside Allison's house and Stiles knew that the odds of those cars belonging to the new hunters were pretty great. They were here. And now Stiles had to go inside, talk to them and try to convince them to give him a bullet to save the life of a werewolf they themselves had shot. How was this their plan?

He knew that he should hurry but he found himself frozen in his seat. Partly because he was nervous and didn't want to face the hunters he had already argued with once that night, but even more so because he wasn't that fond of Allison's house anymore. He knew that her grandfather wasn't living there now but the basement was still there. He wasn't horribly scarred or anything but it would be a lie to say that he looked forward to entering the house again. Gerard had done horrible things to not only him but Erica and Boyd as well, right there in that basement. Stiles got chills just thinking about it.

After another deep breath the straightened in his seat, staring out through the windshield. It was dark save for the streetlights and the soft glow coming from the surrounding houses. Not even the moon was particularly helpful, hidden behind a convenient line of clouds as it was.

"You can do this. Come on." His voice sounded harsh even to his own ears. He drummed his fingers nervously against the steering wheel, gaze traveling to the innocent looking house.

Stiles had no idea why Deaton thought that he could do this. He had no idea what to say in order to convince them that Derek deserved to live. Heck, half of the times they found themselves in trouble Stiles had considered letting Derek die himself. But that wasn't entirely true. Stiles didn't want anyone to die, no matter how many times he gave that as a solution or option. Well, perhaps bad people. Stiles still wasn't mourning Matt's death but someone like Derek? It wasn't the same. Death was permanent. Stiles if anyone knew that. His mother would never come back and even if he didn't care about Derek even a fifth of what he cared about his mother he wasn't prepared to let Derek die.

Death wasn't a joke. Sure, Stiles himself joked about it a lot but that was mostly because he had never really thought that it would become reality. That he would actually have to struggle for survival and keep other people from dying. Those kind of experiences put things in perspective. He didn't want Derek to die. Not because he was particularly fond of him – the alpha was generally just a pain in Stiles' ass – but because he actually thought that Derek deserved to live. Stiles didn't have to like him to see his worth. Derek had a purpose and if given the chance Stiles might actually grow to like him. Not likely considering the current state of their relationship, but Stiles opted to remain positive.

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, grimacing when he realized that his fingers were stained with that odd blackish blood that had been spewing from Derek's wound. There wasn't much to do about that right now though. At least the alpha hadn't puked black goo this time. Take comfort in the little things. Good idea.

Stiles grit his teeth and pushed the door open with a little more force than necessary. Better to get it over with. He had no idea what to say but he suspected that no amount of planning would tell him that, and even if it did he would just panic and forget it all anyway. He would have to go on instinct.

He climbed out of the Jeep and slammed the door shut before rubbing his palms against his jeans. They were going to notice how nervous he was the moment he stepped inside the door – if they even let him inside – but there was nothing to do about that. Deaton was probably right when he said that they wouldn't hurt him though. That was some consolation.

"Still the worst idea ever..." Stiles muttered to himself before crossing the street, heading for the frankly terrifying hunter stronghold.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favourite chapters. Oh yeah.
> 
> Lots of love for my beta, [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum)


	5. Common Enemy

  


 

* * *

 

Stiles really should have been prepared to see Allison on the other side of the door. He had gone up to the house, rung the doorbell and then stood there, trying not to fidget while he waited for someone to open. For some reason he had thought that Mr. Argent would be the one so when he was met with Allison's soft and slightly confused greeting plus a vaguely uncomfortable smile instead, Stiles wasn't really sure what to do. Which meant that he gaped like a goldfish during a couple of moments while Allison patiently – if a little awkwardly – waited for him to get to the point.

"I, ah-... need to speak to your guests."

"Our guests?" Allison sounded hesitant, bordering on suspicious, which Stiles found very insulting. Sure, he could tell that she was as nervous as he was – they hadn't really spoken much since she went ballistic and tried to murder everyone – but he could guarantee that if anyone had to fear for their safety it was him, not her.

"Yeah, the-... uh... hunters." He scratched his neck before gesturing towards the general area behind her shoulder. Her brown eyes took in his appearance again, the scrutiny swift but efficient. His disheveled clothes, the dried blackish bloodstains and the wild look on his face told a pretty clear story. She seemed to hesitate though and at first Stiles thought that she would refuse, but then he saw a glimpse of that heartbreaking fear he was so used to seeing in both Scott and Allison's eyes.

"Is it... it's not Scott, is it?" Her voice was so weak, so frail and frightened, as if she didn't know if she was allowed to ask but needed to know all the same. It made Stiles feel both uncomfortable and slightly intrusive.

"Yes. I mean no!" he hastened to add when he saw her face pale. "Not really. He's involved in the events but he's okay. He's fine, Allison, really. It's not his blood."

Stiles gestured toward his collar with his bloodstained hands and then, right in that moment, he realized that he was walking around with Derek on his hands and clothes. He suppressed an urge to gag.

"Whose is it?" Allison's voice was chillier now, more calculating, because she must have realized that if it wasn't Scott's and clearly not Stiles' then it had to be one of the other werewolves. And she wasn't particularly friendly with either of them. Especially not Derek. Oh dear.

Stiles opened his mouth to reply but he honestly didn't know what to say. If he told her the truth she would slam the door in his face. Even if she had stopped trying to murder everything supernatural within reach Stiles had a feeling that she still wanted to see Derek dead, sooner rather than later. The anger from her mother's death was still fresh and Stiles was there to try and save the werewolf who was the cause for Victoria Argent's suicide. Allison was going to hate him before the night was over. It probably didn't even matter if he managed to get the bullet or not, he would still be trying to save the man who killed her mother in her eyes. Shit.

Stiles wasn't sure if he was supposed to consider himself lucky that Chris Argent picked that exact moment to join them.

"Allison?" Mr. Argent's gaze turned to Stiles as soon as he stepped up next to his daughter. "And Stiles. What gives us the pleasure?"

Mr. Argent smiled but there was something wary in his eyes when he caught sight of Stiles' appearance, which was a very understandable reaction. Stiles cleared his throat.

"I need to talk to the hunters. The ones that are visiting." He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder, indicating the cars in the driveway. "I have, uh... no weapons or anything. I just want to talk."

Mr. Argent gave Stiles a long searching look before offering a brief nod and an invitation to step inside the house. Stiles swallowed but did as asked, following Mr. Argent's directions until he entered a living room with a huge fireplace and comfortable couches. It was definitely a different side of the house than the one Stiles had seen on his last visit.

Six hunters were seated on the couches, one standing by the fireplace, but all of them turned their gazes towards Stiles when he entered. He wanted to bolt. Sadly enough Mr. Argent was right behind him, forcing him to step further into the room instead. He had to do this. Somehow. He was the smart one, after all.

"The wolf boy. Well that's unexpected," one of the hunters sneered, a thin looking man with neatly trimmed hair and hard, dark eyes. The impatient one, Stiles realized. He gave the other six hunters a quick glance, deciding that the slightly older man by the fireplace had to be the leader but it was impossible to determine which one of the three women had been with them in the woods earlier that night.

"Allison, would you please-"

"I want to stay, Dad," Allison interrupted her father, eyes burning with determination.

Stiles swallowed, secretly hoping that Mr. Argent would send Allison away, simply because it would make it easier for Stiles. She didn't want to hear what he had come to tell them. But she seemed adamant and after some moments of silent communication between father and daughter Mr. Argent nodded his approval. Stiles took a deep, shivering breath.

"Why are you here, son?" the man by the fireplace asked, bright blue eyes focused on Stiles.

"I-..." He swallowed and tried again. "I need one of the wolfsbane bullets."

The thin man burst out laughing.

"To save the wolf? You want us to give you a bullet so that you can save him? Is that it?"

"Yes," Stiles replied with more conviction than he actually felt. He could feel Allison staring at him but he refused to look at her. It was going to get so much worse, real soon.

"Who got shot, Stiles?" Mr. Argent asked, brows furrowed and gaze flickering towards Allison. Stiles wet his lips. He couldn't really lie about it, he knew that.

"Derek."

Allison froze, her eyes widening as she stared at Stiles. Yeah, she was definitely going to hate him for trying to save Derek's life. She knew that Stiles and Derek weren't even friends to begin with, just reluctant adventure partners, so Stiles making such an effort didn't really make much sense. Not even to Stiles, to tell the truth. And according to her Derek probably deserved to die. To her, Stiles was most likely betraying whatever friendship they had between them.

Stiles briefly considered aborting the whole plan. He didn't want to hurt Allison. She wasn't a bad person even if she had gone loopy when her mother killed herself. She was in pain after her mother's death – Stiles knew all about that. But at the same time he just couldn't justify what she wanted to do. There was more at stake than her revenge. More people could get hurt. She was in pain, Stiles got that – heck, he got it better than most – but it was not okay. The fact that Allison's mother had died did not give her the right to decide over someone else's life or death. It didn't.

Mr. Argent seemed surprised by Stiles' admission but unlike his daughter he didn't seem to want to condemn Stiles to the deepest pits of hell. Stiles clenched his hands into tight fists in an attempt to keep them from shaking. He couldn't deny that a drop of nervous sweat rolled down the curve of his spine though. What had he gotten himself into? For Derek of all people?

"Derek is the alpha of the local pack," he said, voice stronger than expected, directed towards the seven new hunters. "He's the one you shot. But you can't let him die."

"Why not? Alphas are notoriously violent. One less is only doing us all a favor," one of the women replied, a shorthaired blonde with a red leather jacket.

"No, it's not a favor," Stiles grit out between clenched teeth, desperately trying to think of a reason why Derek's death would be bad for the hunters. He had to think fast. "Derek might not be the best alpha out there – trust me, we all know that – but you'll create chaos if you let him die. Every werewolf that relies on him would lose direction, okay? We can't afford that."

"I'm pretty certain that we can handle some omegas, son," the leader said, patient but clearly not impressed. Well, Stiles would just have to impress him then. He steeled his resolve and met the elder man's gaze as firmly as he possibly could. His fear had to be obvious to them all but that didn't keep him from trying. Once Stiles accepted a task he intended to see it through.

"Sure, but what if the pack you are already hunting absorbed all of those omegas, huh? How much stronger would they become?" Stiles took a step forward, noticing that he was gaining ground when the hunters began glancing at each other. "Because that's what would happen. Without their alpha they'll be omegas ready for the taking. The intruding pack would gobble them all up. Now, I don't know why you're hunting that pack but since you follow the code I'm guessing that they actually broke one of the rules and killed humans at some point. This pack hasn't."

"They killed my mom," Allison bit out, voice angry and harsh. Stiles closed his eyes against the chill that rose within him. This was exactly what he had wanted to avoid. He licked his lips and turned towards Allison but his voice was not soft when he answered her.

"No, Allison, your mother committed suicide."

"Because Derek BIT her!" Allison exclaimed, taking two steps towards Stiles despite her father's attempts to hold her back. Mr. Argent was clearly more collected than his daughter but he looked pained at the mention of his late wife.

"Because she was trying to kill Scott!" Stiles shouted back. "Victoria Argent broke the code! She tried to kill an innocent sixteen year old boy – your former boyfriend! Scott might be a werewolf but he has _never_ hurt anyone! You know that better than anyone, Allison!"

Allison faltered and Stiles couldn't tell if it was because she hadn't known about her mother trying to kill Scott or because Stiles was shouting at her. He had never seemed particularly hostile towards her before. He wasn't now either, not intentionally, but he had to set some things straight.

He glanced in the other hunters' direction but they were wise enough to keep out of this particular discussion. Stiles felt his stomach roll from nausea and guilt. He really didn't want to do this. He didn't want to hurt Allison, but it wasn't just about Derek. It was about the threat from the second pack.

"This isn't about you, Allison, or your mother." Stiles' shoulders slumped and Mr. Argent quietly wrapped an arm around Allison. She seemed inches from shrugging it off but let it remain in the end. Stiles turned back to the gathered hunters. "If Derek dies you are giving this new pack a pile of young, lost wolves to force into their ranks. You'll only be making them stronger, allowing them to hurt more people. You might not like werewolves or approve of this pack but letting Derek die is literally one of the worst choices you could make right now."

"And you are sure that they're recruiting?" another woman asked, the one from the woods judging on her voice. Stiles nodded, literally feeling how the pieces began to click together.

"They kidnapped an omega today, trying to strengthen their ranks." He glanced towards Allison but she was resolutely staring at the far wall. He guessed he couldn't blame her for that. "Scott. My best friend. We managed to save him just before you arrived and broke up the party."

"They might just be trying to take out the competition," another man, with tanned skin and dark curls, said. Stiles scoffed.

"Yeah right. I might not be a hunter but I'm not stupid. I know tactics." Mostly from online gaming communities where he battled mythological creatures, but still. They didn't have to know that. "If they wanted to take over the territory they would have killed him on the spot. You know that too. There was no need to take him from his house and out into the woods unless they planned to do something with him, and since he's an omega it wasn't exactly to use him as leverage – because he doesn't belong to the pack. No, they wanted _him_. They're either aware of you being hot on their tails and are trying to strengthen their forces or they're just looking to expand."

"Very true, son. You most certainly have a good head on your shoulders, I'll give you that," the eldest man said. He smiled towards Stiles, gesturing casually with one hand. "Now, tell me then, if we do this – if we give you the bullet – what do we get out of it?"

"You mean besides a better chance to survive?"

"He has a mouth on him too," the blonde woman snickered, apparently more amused than annoyed. Stiles wasn't certain whether to feel proud or violated by their praise.

The hunters were observing him as if he was the prey and a part of Stiles would have preferred to have this conversation with Mr. Argent, but the man seemed completely content to let the others run the show. Stiles had a hard time reading these new hunters but he could tell that he was succeeding – by some kind of miracle. Whatever it was he was doing he was doing it right.

"We won't interfere with your hunt," Stiles replied eventually.

"And you speak for the pack? For this Derek?"

Stiles faltered, mouth hanging slightly open for a brief moment. He was pretty certain that he wasn't speaking for the pack and that Derek would kill him for even trying.

"Wolf got your tongue, boy?" the thin man teased and at once Stiles felt his back straighten.

"No, I don't speak for the pack but I can convince the alpha to do as we agree on."

Or he could force Scott to convince Derek to do what they agreed on, more correctly. Scott had a better chance of managing what with Derek's habit of ignoring Stiles as often as the chance was given. The prospects weren't great either way because Derek never did change his mind once it was set but even he had to agree that if the hunters could handle the situation without any bloodshed on the werewolves' part it would only be to their benefit. Let the hunters handle the enemy they happened to have in common. Great plan, if Stiles dared to say so himself.

"Oh, can you now? What role do you play in this exactly?" the older man asked.

"Human negotiator, research expert and werewolf obedience trainer," Stiles deadpanned.

He could hear more than one of the hunters snicker at that. Even Mr. Argent seemed vaguely amused, probably because he knew that it was true, in a broad sense.

"Give us the number of wolves in this local pack, including the omegas," the eldest man demanded.

"If you tell me how many there are in the intruding pack," Stiles replied without missing a beat.

"Do you really think that you are in a position to make demands, son?"

Stiles knew that he was playing a very dangerous game but he was notorious for not keeping his mouth shut or words appropriately decent.

"Do you really think that you are in a position to deny them?" he asked back. The older man gaze bored into Stiles', as if trying to call him out on some sort of lie, but Stiles knew that he was right. This was a group of hunters who followed the code which meant that the invading pack had to be bad, and letting Derek die would only make the situation worse. Stiles was actually doing them a favor by making sure that the other pack couldn't get more members and grow stronger.

Stiles had stopped breathing, just staring back at the lead hunter, trying not to break under his gaze. It was difficult and he couldn't quite keep himself from swallowing nervously, his whole body trembling but hopefully not enough to make it obvious. Then the man began to chuckle. Stiles blinked stupidly and almost looked around, trying to determine if he had lost his mind somewhere along the way and started hallucinating.

"You have balls, son. I like that." The leader turned towards the thin, impatient man. "Gary, go get one of the bullets for the wolf boy, will you?"

Stiles almost collapsed from relief, even if this Gary had to be told twice before he actually got up from the couch and headed for the door, no doubt to return to their cars where the ammunition was stashed. The leader turned towards Stiles again.

"There are eleven wolves that we know of in the pack we are hunting. One alpha and ten betas. We've been tracking them across three states, ever since they slaughtered two families in Montana."

Stiles swallowed harshly but nodded to show that he had understood. Eleven wolves. They were definitely outnumbered, especially since he doubted that any of those eleven were as new to wolfdom as the ones in Beacon Hills. They wouldn't stand a chance if it came to a fight head on.

"There is one alpha, three betas and two omegas here in Beacon Hills." Stiles had considered lying but he wasn't sure if Mr. Argent or Allison would let him. They knew how many werewolves there were and Allison might just have been pushed to the hunters' side in this issue due to Stiles' cruelty.

Stiles didn't count Peter mostly because he had no idea _how_ to count him. Peter might even have left Beacon Hills as far as Stiles knew. It was better to just keep him out of the equation for now.

"And you. You're here too," the woman from the woods piped up, a crooked smile curling her lips.

"Uh... yeah. And me. But I'm just a human."

That caused another round of chuckles amongst the hunters for some reason but Stiles didn't have the energy to care. He just wanted to get the bullet, bring it to Deaton and then collapse from exhaustion. He was not made to handle this kind of stress. He felt like he was buzzing and he had a harder time remaining still than usual.

"So you'll keep out of the way, I assume?" the leader asked. Stiles nodded.

"We don't want to get caught up in this. If they attack I'm pretty certain that the pack will retaliate but we're not going to seek them out. We can't risk getting caught in the crossfire." Stiles had to make Derek see that too.

The alpha would be risking the lives of his betas if he let them stray too close to the hunters. This was not a truce or a peace offering, it was just a necessary negotiation. The hunters had not said anything about not shooting a werewolf from the Beacon Hills pack or its omegas and Stiles was not about to push that issue. He had done what he came for.

Stiles was just getting ready to start fidgeting when Gary returned, looking sour and reluctant, but he handed over the bullet. Stiles accepted it with a shaking hand and put it in his jeans pocket. He didn't know how much time he had left before Derek actually died but the sooner he got out the better he would feel. His heart was hammering in his chest and his limbs felt weak and floppy.

"I better get back," Stiles mumbled while rubbing his neck. He had no idea whether to be polite and say goodbye or not.

"Good luck with the alpha, Stiles," the older man said while holding out his hand, apparently expecting a handshake. "My name is Walter, by the way."

Well, introductions were nice. Stiles hesitated before accepting the handshake, mostly because his fingers were still stained with werewolf blood but Walter didn't seem to mind. The handshake was a little too firm for Stiles and he had to bite the inside of his cheek not to grimace.

Walter let go soon enough and Stiles was heading for the door the next second. He could hear the hunters call various goodbyes but he didn't reply to a single one of them. Allison was still avoiding looking at him and Stiles knew better than to try and reason with her. Perhaps in a couple of days if she had calmed down but not now. Mr. Argent followed him to the door, half a step behind him, and Stiles found himself lingering with his hand on the handle.

He turned towards Mr. Argent, who seemed mildly surprised that Stiles hadn't fled the scene yet.

"I don't think that your wife deserved to die," Stiles said, right out of the blue. Mr. Argent looked completely baffled and Stiles hurried to continue, "She tried to kill Scott and I can't say that I liked her but... she didn't deserve it. Allison didn't deserve this. You might not want to hear it from me but I don't like people dying or getting hurt... not your wife, not Scott and not even Derek."

Mr. Argent seemed lost for words, face completely blank, and eventually Stiles was given nothing more than a nod and a short reply.

"You better get back."

Stiles took that as his definite cue to leave and quietly slipped out through the front door, trying not to let the betrayed look on Allison's face get stuck on his memory.

 

 

The drive back from the Argent house was nerve wrecking and Stiles was forced to keep tight reins on his panic. He wasn't ashamed to admit that he had been terrified during pretty much the entire conversation he had had with the hunters. He knew that they wouldn't kill him but there were several other ways to hurt him. Not to mention that he didn't want Derek's death on his conscience. And he still wasn't sure if he would make it on time. Derek might already be dead, even if Stiles doubted it.

Stiles was close to frantic before he managed to force himself to take deep, even breaths, fighting back the panic attack he was inches from having. He slowly calmed down and narrowly avoided any situations resulting in him wrapping his Jeep around a tree.

When Stiles returned to Deaton's Derek was pretty much unconscious. But that was probably for the best considering that Stiles' entrance was far from graceful and he definitely didn't need Derek to judge him for it. Deaton smiled when Stiles came stumbling in through the door, bullet in hand and a little worse for wear. He was calm though, if a little out of breath.

"Thank you, Stiles, good work."

Deaton held out his hand for the bullet and Stiles almost tossed it at his head in his urgency.

"Yeah yeah, just fix him," Stiles gasped while slumping back against the closest wall. He was going to crash as soon as he got home.

Deaton turned to Derek who was now lying on the examination table, skin pale and clammy. His eyes were closed, head tilted softly to one side, and even if his chest was moving up and down it was barely noticeable. The patchwork of black veins looked much worse than before and Stiles grimaced. It looked painful.

"Derek? Can you hear me?" Deaton asked in that steady, calm voice of his. There was no response.

Stiles perked up.

"You need me to punch him? I did that last time and it worked wonders. Especially for me and my stress level."

Yes, punching Derek was definitely a great way to relieve stress, even if it hurt like a bitch afterwards. Deaton gave him a disapproving stare before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small silver tube. When the vet raised it to his lips Stiles realized what it was and there was just no way to contain his gleeful outburst.

"Oh my God is that a _dog whistle_? That's the best ever!" Stiles hurried closer just as Deaton blew into the small whistle and even if Stiles didn't hear much at all Derek gave a sudden jerk before his hazel eyes shot open. Stiles' entire face erupted into an expression of surprised awe while he gestured wildly with his hands. "And it works! It worked! Oh that's just gorgeous! I am going to tease everyone so much for this! A dog whistle! Awesome."

Stiles was inches from doing a little happy dance and judging on the expression on Derek's face the werewolf would have given just about anything for the strength to reach out and strangle Stiles. Deaton ignored Stiles' little outburst with impressive efficiency while going about dismantling the bullet.

"Try to brace yourself for the pain, Derek, we're almost done."

Stiles didn't know if it was his imagination of if Deaton actually sounded a little softer as he said those words. Then again, the vet was used to calming sick and hurt animals and one probably learned to talk in a gentle manner then. The alpha gave no reply besides a tired, barely noticeable nod. Stiles took a step back, not wanting to stand too close to the alpha when the pain hit. He could vividly remember what had happened last time Derek cleansed himself of the poison from a wolfsbane bullet and he didn't want to get in the way of all that trashing.

Deaton was swift and efficient so it didn't take long before the burned wolfsbane was pushed into the gaping hole in Derek's shoulder. Stiles backed up further when Derek gave a half strangled, pained gasp and every single one of the alpha's muscles seemed to tense in agony. A part of Stiles thought that he would feel some amount of joy in watching Derek writhe in pain but it really wasn't that fun anymore. It just looked horrible. Impressive, yes, because werewolf healing was a fascinating thing to behold, but the muffled screams and spasms were only disturbing, not funny.

Derek slumped back against the examination table when the healing process was over and Stiles was actually impressed that he alpha hadn't tipped over the edge of the steel slab. Stiles licked his lips and rubbed his neck, completely forgetting that his hands were still stained with blood. Deaton gave Stiles a nod, as if Stiles had actually done something useful the past minute or so, while Derek was busy regain his bearings.

"So you managed to get the bullet..." the alpha said after a moment, almost as if he was talking to himself. Stiles rolled his eyes. Of course Derek wouldn't ask how he had managed because then he might have to listen to Stiles explaining that he wasn't completely useless and actually could convince and entire group of hostile hunters to help save a dying werewolf. Really. How many could claim that? Derek sucked and Stiles deserved some recognition.

"Yes, I did, and you're welcome, Sourwolf."

"Don't call me that," Derek growled while easing himself up into a sitting position with slightly less grace than usual. The alpha swung his legs over the side of the table but remained seated.

"Hey, I just saved your life like twice tonight. I can call you whatever I want. Just be happy that I didn't pick Fluffy or Cupcake or something."

The look Derek gave him clearly stated that if Stiles ever decided to call him that there wouldn't even be a body to find afterwards. Stiles believed it. In an attempt to hide his own fear Stiles cleared his throat and gestured vaguely in the direction of the outside world.

"So... I talked to the hunters..."

"Yes, we know." The alpha sounded bored and unimpressed.

Derek truly was an ungrateful fuck and Stiles felt that his frustration was justified.

"And I've got some valuable information, you rude idiot. Stop being such an asshole!" Stiles clenched his hands, glaring at Derek. Sure, he could understand if Derek preferred to rely on Scott because they were both werewolves but that didn't mean that he had to be insulting when all Stiles wanted to do was help.

Derek stared back, jaw clenching briefly before he gave a reluctant nod. Stiles knew that that was as close to an apology as one would ever get with Derek Hale. He gave a disgruntled little noise but decided to just get it over with.

"The hunters – seven of them – are after the other pack, the one that's sniffing around Beacon Hills. Those werewolves killed humans a couple of states back and the hunters have been on their tail – pun intended – ever since. There's one alpha and ten betas in the pack so we better lay low."

"'We'?" Derek raised an eyebrow which was very distracting for some reason. Stiles suddenly realized that Derek had fascinating eyebrows. What an odd thing to take note of.

"Yes, 'we'. The ones involved in the supernatural business going on in this town. Don't even try to tell me that I'm not included in that." Stiles raised his chin, clearly challenging Derek to disagree with him. Which might not have been his smartest move considering how Derek jumped down from the examination table and loomed closer to Stiles. How he managed to loom like that while not being that much taller was a mystery and actually quite impressive. Stiles held back a startled meep and backed up against the wall.

"So there are eleven of them?"

Thank God for Deaton and his superpowers of absolute calm. Derek looked at the vet instead and Stiles dared to breathe. A little. They weren't touching but Derek stood close enough to seem very intimidating and very half naked. Stiles had a hard time deciding if the latter was a good or bad thing, especially now when there were no more repulsive black veins. He settled for distracting and didn't really delve deeper into why that was. There be monsters down that road.

"Yeah, at least according to the hunters. Only three were there to kidnap Scott but the others must be close by," Stiles replied.

"Those three were probably scouts," Derek said, still not backing away from Stiles which, really, was beginning to make at least one of them very uncomfortable. And it wasn't the alpha.

"I told the hunters that the Beacon Hills werewolves will stay out of their way," Stiles continued, swallowing harshly when Derek's gaze snapped back to him. The stare wasn't scary per se but it definitely made him want to squirm. "They will shoot whichever werewolf comes in their path and it's not really necessary for us to try and find the other pack. Why not let the hunters deal with it? I figured that would be the best way to keep everyone safe."

He knew that he shouldn't have to defend himself but Derek was territorial and a control freak. Of course he didn't like it when Stiles made decisions without his consent.

"That is a good decision," Deaton said calmly, which earned him a dirty look from Derek. Stiles almost wanted to giggle at the expression on the alpha's face.

"I'll tell Scott, Lydia and Jackson so all you have to do it keep track of your betas. Granted that you're not very good at it…" Okay, so maybe Stiles had some hidden death wish or something.

Derek leaned closer, eyes flashing red, and Stiles felt his heart skip a beat. Luckily enough Deaton was on Stiles' side of the argument, even if he sounded mildly exasperated by then.

"Boys, behave."

Derek seemed inches from fulfilling his threat to tear Stiles' throat out with his teeth, and since Stiles liked his throat very much he hoped that the alpha would listen to the vet and behave instead. But then again, Derek had been raised by wolves so chewing on throats might be behaving according to his upbringing. Stiles had to ask sometime when he wasn't at risk of getting a firsthand demonstration.

"Now I imagine that it would be best for Stiles to head home." Deaton continued, Zen as ever.

Stiles barely managed to keep himself from cursing. His dad. If he was lucky his dad had stayed late at the station but even if that was the case the passenger seat of Stiles' Jeep needed a thorough clean thanks to Derek. He was so dead.

"Definitely a good idea," Stiles breathed.

He shouldered his way past Derek, barely registering the fact that he a) managed without getting thrown into a wall and b) might have given Derek a quick pat on the arm before he went. It came instinctual to him and he didn't reflect on it until five minutes later when he was already on his way home after having shouted his goodbyes over his shoulder. He almost drove himself off the road because touching and Derek did not usually mix well – not even when it was the casual, non-obtrusive kind. Stiles winced, hoping that Derek wouldn't ponder on it enough to decide to hurt him for it. It wasn't like it meant anything anyway.

Stiles fished out his phone, keeping half an eye on the road, and a wave of relief swept over him when he saw a text from Scott, declaring that his best friend had gotten home safely. In a daring and most likely illegal maneuver he managed to reply that he was on his way home too and that he would talk to Scott the next day. Stiles wanted to do it the same night but after he was done cleaning the Jeep and himself he would undoubtedly crash. As long as Scott was safe they could talk in the morning.

In a stroke of luck his father's cruiser was missing from the driveway, indicating that his dad had yet to come home, and Stiles did a little shimmy in his car as he pulled up in front of the house. He had helped rescue Scott, saved Derek twice, butted head with hunters and gotten home without his dad being aware of any of it. Not bad for a day's work.

It was only after he had stumbled into bed an hour later, Jeep relatively clean, himself showered and his dad still at work, that he realized that he hadn't eaten dinner that night. He fell asleep the next moment.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please bear with me when it comes to Allison. I KNOW that she came off a little harsh in this chapter but she's not miraculously going to recover from her mother's death OR the fact that she taught herself to torture classmates. Seriously.  
> I like Allison - I really do - but her progress (because I will try my best to help her) will not happen overnight. So please don't hate me. I'm working on it but I'm going to make it believable.
> 
> Thank you, once again, to by lovely beta [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum).
> 
> If you have any questions you can find me over at my [Tumblr](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/)  
> See you next week!


	6. Heart

  


 

* * *

 

Stiles stumbled down the stairs a little earlier than usual the next morning, a huge yawn making his jaw crack while he absently scratched his stomach. He shuffled into the kitchen, following the sounds that indicated that his dad was home. That or a burglar who was dying for a cup of coffee.

"Morning," Stiles mumbled as soon as he came within view of his dad, "when did you get back last night? You going back to work already?"

Stiles frowned at the sight of his dad's uniform. He might have been half asleep but it didn't take long before he noticed the creases in the fabric and the tired look on his dad's face.

"Wait... you didn't come home until this morning, did you?" Stiles felt a wave of dread rise within him. That kind of overtime only ever meant one thing. Stiles eyes widened. "Dad, what happened? Who got hurt?"

His dad sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Stiles, you know I can't discuss that with you," his dad replied, voice weary.

Stiles swallowed, watching from the doorway as his dad continued to prepare coffee. He had been relieved last night when his dad hadn't been home when he got back from Deaton's but knowing the reason he didn't feel so relieved anymore. The last time his father had to pull all-nighters at the station was when Jackson was still running amok under Matt's command.

Fear slammed into Stiles. He knew that Scott was fine and the same went for Derek. But what about Isaac, Erica and Boyd? Was there some sort of super wolf connection that would have told Derek if anything happened to them? And then there was Lydia and Jackson to worry about too, who so far knew nothing about what was going on. The hunters were probably not responsible but there were foreign werewolves out there. Someone could have gotten killed and Stiles hadn't even known about it.

"Dad, come on," he pleaded, stepping closer, "did something happen?"

His dad glanced in his direction, clearly hesitant. Stiles tried not to let the small hint of suspicion in his father's gaze get to him, but it did. Of course his dad didn't trust him yet but Stiles hadn't had anything to do with what had happened. Or at least he was pretty certain that he hadn't. Stiles swallowed, gritting his teeth in a vain attempt to keep his stomach from rolling with guilt. His dad didn't want to tell him in fear of him being involved. He really had ruined their relationship.

"Look, Stiles," his dad said eventually, turning towards Stiles while resting his hip against the counter, "I really can't tell you, you know that."

Stiles averted his gaze, looking at the fridge, the cabinets, the floor. Anything but his dad. His fingers fiddled with the hem of his t-shirt but he was uncharacteristically motionless besides that.

"Stiles..."

No. Stiles didn't want to hear his dad use that pained tone. His dad didn't like this any more than Stiles did. The unexplained nightly excursions, the lies and the fake smiles. Neither of them liked it. Just change the subject.

"So you'll be going back then? I'll come by with a late lunch, okay?" Because he still had a responsibility to make sure that his father was eating right. It was difficult to determine if his dad was relieved or troubled by the change of subject but he nodded eventually.

"Yeah, that'll be good. A burger would be nice."

Stiles scoffed before laughing but it sounded forced and too high-pitched. It wasn't a real laugh. Not an honest one. The worried lines on his dad's face told him that it hadn't passed unnoticed.

"Not gonna happen. You get a salad."

"That is just cruel," his dad grumbled while pouring the coffee into a Thermos. "Ever heard of enjoying the joys of life?"

"Yes, yes indeed I have. And you need a life to do that, which is why I'm extending yours," Stiles answered while padding over to one of the cabinets. His chest still ached from the knowledge that his dad didn't trust him – that he couldn't talk to him anymore – but he could pretend that it didn't. Stiles knew that he wasn't an easy kid to raise, especially not as a single parent, but no matter how hard he tried it just didn't seem to matter. Werewolves and kanimas attacked without caring about Stiles' relationship with his dad. Stiles never wanted this for them. He missed his dad and the closeness they had had before. He missed it so much. And it was all his fault that they didn't have it anymore.

"I'll be back by dinner," his dad said before collecting the Thermos and the rest of his things.

"Yeah, okay. See you later," Stiles replied absently, pulling out what he needed for his breakfast.

"Be good, Stiles."

It was an innocent phrase but it made Stiles freeze none the less. It held a lot more meaning coming from his dad, considering their current circumstances. Stiles bit his lip and nodded, forcing a smile when he looked over his shoulder at his dad.

"Yeah, I will. You be careful."

His dad gave him a weak smile – eyes tired and sad – before he nodded once and left. As soon as Stiles heard the front door close he let his forehead thunk against the cabinet in front of him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was all his fault.

 

 

After delivering his dad's salad – which earned him many complaints and a lot of fuss – Stiles drove to Lydia's house. He wasn't entirely sure if Lydia's mom was home or not but he did recognize the Porsche parked outside. Stiles valiantly ignored the stab he felt in his chest before climbing out of his Jeep to go ring the doorbell. Of course Jackson would be there.

Lydia opened the door after a couple of seconds, looking perfect as always, and Stiles struggled to keep his mind on track. He hadn't seen her in a while and he hadn't really thought that much about it during that time but everything – with Jackson, the kanima and the irrefutable rejection – just came rushing back at the sight of her. It still hurt. So much.

He swallowed, ignored the pressure in his chest that made it so incredibly difficult to breathe and tried a vague smile. Lydia raised an eyebrow.

"Uh... hi," he said stupidly. He could feel how his heartbeat picked up, just from being near her, no matter how much he didn't want it to. He knew that he didn't have a chance but his body just wouldn't agree.

"Stiles." Her tone was clipped and precise, like always, but her expression was marginally softer than usual. Or at least he chose to believe that it was.

"I have some news... a warning actually, that Jackson or you-... or both of you, really, need to hear."

He wanted to kick himself for stumbling over his own words. He didn't usually do that. It was just that this was Lydia – the girl he had been in love with since third grade. She was beautiful and perfect and he would have been so nice to her, had she just given him the chance. But she had always been way out of his league, even more so now when it was obvious how much she loved Jackson.

Lydia, surprisingly enough, didn't hesitate before stepping aside so that Stiles could enter the house. He blinked stupidly before catching sight of the impatient little curl to Lydia's lips. After that he tumbled into the hallway as fast as possible. She gave a pleased little nod, closed the door behind him and then strode off towards the inner depths of the house. Stiles felt awkward and clumsy as he followed her, so loud and obnoxious compared to her graceful, confident strides. Lydia always walked as if she had a goal in mind and as if nothing could ever stop her from reaching it. Stiles loved that about her.

They entered the living room where Jackson was lounging causally in one of the couches but Stiles wasn't fooled. Jackson had listened in to everything that had been said and judging on the slight suspicion in his gaze he also heard Stiles' quickened heartbeats. Not that it was a secret that he carried a torch for Lydia but Jackson seemed more suspicious and paranoid about many things nowadays. Stiles assumed that it was natural considering what he had been forced to go through.

Even Stiles liked to point out that Jackson was a douche who deserved to be knocked down a peg or two but there was a difference between getting a blow to your pride and being forced to murder people against your will. Jackson had been aware of it after all, at least towards the end. Stiles didn't want to imagine what that had to feel like, not being in control of your own body. He had been close enough when he had been paralyzed by the kanima venom and he had just been unable to move, not gone on a rampage and killed people.

"Stiles has news," Lydia declared before she took a seat next to Jackson, her movements fluent and elegant in a way that just couldn't be fabricated. Jackson raised a dubious eyebrow and that, if anything, kicked Stiles into gear. Trust Jackson to be jackass.

"Yeah, I don't know if either of you have noticed but there's another pack sneaking around Beacon Hills." Stiles walked over to the couch opposite to the love birds and took a seat. He tried not to look at how close they sat and how Jackson casually, as if by accident, shuffled a little in his seat so that he ended up touching Lydia, just a little. It wasn't a territorial thing, Stiles knew – Jackson didn't feel threatened by Stiles – they just seemed to need to touch each other.

"No, we haven't," Jackson answered, unimpressed and bored as always. It was amazing how much of a jerk he could be without even trying. But he wasn't really insulting either.

"Well, there is one and yesterday they took Scott in an attempt to-"

"McCall? Wait. McCall got _kidnapped_?" Jackson seemed entirely too entertained by that fact, a condescending smirk settling on his face.

"Jackson," Lydia hissed, giving her boyfriend a reprimanding glare. During a fraction of a second Jackson seemed to want to argue but in the end he just clenched his jaw once and shrugged. Lydia gave Stiles one of her beaming – but false – smiles and urged him to continue.

"As I said, they took Scott because they wanted to recruit him into their pack, since Scott is an omega. I thought that it was best if I came here to warn you because, uh... you are one too, right?"

The question was naturally directed towards Jackson, who frowned briefly before nodding. The new werewolf apparently didn't think that Stiles was worth a verbal response.

"Yeah, well, they might come after you too. You see, they have this band of hunters after them and they're probably trying to build enough of a pack to strike back against them." Stiles took a deep breath. "And that's the second thing I need to warn you about. At least seven new hunters have come to town and even though they technically follow the code they shoot first and ask questions later, mostly because they're tracking a murderous pack of werewolves and can't take chances."

"The hunters are staying here in town?" Lydia asked, her posture immaculate but still leaning towards Jackson somehow. It was subtle but still so obvious, just like the love they had for each other.

"Yeah, I think so. They've talked to Chris Argent but I don't think that he's helping them. He and Allison are both taking a break from hunting as far as I know, considering all that has happened..." Stiles scratched behind one of his ears. "So lay low, okay? Derek and his betas are already informed and I'm going to fill Scott in this afternoon when I pick him up after he's done at work."

"What can we expect from the werewolves?"

Stiles really loved Lydia's way of being direct and down to the point. When Lydia saw a problem she immediately sought a way to solve it. It made him wonder why they had been so keen on keeping her out of the loop after they had found out that she wasn't the kanima. She would have been a great asset and maybe things could have gone differently with her help. But done was done.

"There's eleven of them that we know of, one alpha and ten betas. All of them are probably experienced and violent. There was a fight last night and even when outnumbered they held their own." Stiles rubbed his hands against his knees, just to get something to do with them.

"What can we do to stop them?" Lydia was on a roll, apparently. Jackson seemed uninterested by the entire conversation but Stiles had a feeling that he was listening intently. Stiles was pretty certain that Jackson had an amazing poker face when he wanted to and just because he looked bored didn't mean that he was. And as far as not talking went, well, sometimes it was just better to let Lydia do as she pleased and remain silent. Jackson if anyone had to have learned that by then.

Stiles cleared his throat and focused on Lydia. She looked so determined and in control that he almost began to think that the whole issue with the invading pack and the hunters wasn't so bad.

"It's best to just stay out of the hunters' way. They'll be trying to kill the werewolves and I think that we should just let them handle it. No need to meddle in that..." Stiles grimaced. "But when it comes to the werewolves, well, that's a lot trickier. Unless the hunters manage to keep them busy they might come for us. There's a possibility that they're shopping for a territory too and want to claim Beacon Hills as theirs."

Lydia seemed to consider this for a moment before she pressed her lips into a thin line.

"The only way to make sure that Jackson isn't targeted to be kidnapped would be for him to join Derek's pack," she declared. It wasn't even a question and Stiles really shouldn't have been surprised that Lydia worked it out so quickly. It was _Lydia_. Beside her Jackson stiffened, his gaze turning wild and haunted for a moment and Stiles was both surprised and a little confused by the reaction.

"I'm not joining anyone's pack," Jackson growled, voice harsher and more confident than his expression. He looked afraid even.

Stiles took a moment to consider that but it didn't take long before he got a pretty good idea of why Jackson was so reluctant. He would have to submit. It probably wasn't even about Derek – even if Jackson had all the right in the world not to trust Derek concerning anything – but he would have to give up a fraction of his control to the alpha. Stiles understood if Jackson wasn't ready for that kind of commitment yet, or ever for that matter. Not after having been controlled by both Matt and Grandpa Argent. Being in a pack wouldn't be like being someone else's puppet of course but it was understandable if Jackson's first reaction was to feel fear. Stiles probably would have as well, had he been in his position.

"No one is going to force you," Lydia replied, voice softer, showing hints of that warmth and love she had showered Jackson with when he finally broke free from being the kanima. Stiles looked away but he could already feel the dull, aching pain in his chest. He just hoped that it would pass sooner rather than later.

"No, they're not," Stiles agreed. "It might be an option but not one you have to choose or even consider. If we're lucky the hunters will be able to handle the situation and we won't even have to bother. Personally, I'm hoping for that one."

A small smile spread on Lydia's lips and Stiles couldn't help that his heart skipped a beat. He had caused that smile and she looked so beautiful. He shot Jackson a glance and the werewolf had raised a questioning eyebrow but didn't say anything. Stiles had to admit that he was surprised. He thought that Jackson would at least tease Stiles for being in love with his girlfriend when he obviously couldn't have her, or at worst maim him for it. But nothing happened. Jackson had changed, apparently.

"So yeah... that's what I came to say," Stiles mumbled awkwardly while rubbing his knees again. "I should probably get going and, uh, let you get back to what you were doing."

"I'll follow you to the door," Lydia replied briskly before rising from the couch, clearly not fazed by Stiles' sudden change. He just didn't want to stay in the same room as them if he could help it. He understood them, he truly did, considering what they had been forced to go through before they got each other, but it still hurt to see them so in love and physical with each other. Nothing could change that. And he wasn't a masochist. One day he might be able to smile at them and wish them luck and be completely honest but that was not today.

So instead he got up from the couch, gave Jackson a brief nod that wasn't returned and then followed Lydia as she headed off towards the front door again. Stiles had to bite the inside of his cheek not to sprout some random nonsense that would make her talk to him longer and he pushed his hands deep into his jeans pocket, just to avoid any and all temptation to touch her.

When Lydia opened the door for him he made himself smile at her but to his surprise she was the one who reached out to stop him from leaving. She placed her hand on his arm, so small and delicate compared to him even if Stiles wasn't the most muscular of guys.

"Stiles..." She hesitated, for once not looking confident and flippant. "I wanted to thank you. I never really did. So thank you, for coming with me to find Jackson that time."

His shoulder slumped. Of course it was about Jackson. It was all she thought about. He knew that.

"It's cool. I know how much you wanted to help Jackson and since I was the only one available I couldn't exactly let you-"

"No, Stiles, that's not it," she interrupted, her green eyes firm and determined all of a sudden. "I wanted to thank you for listening to me and for coming with me even if it hurt you."

Stiles stiffened and Lydia moved a little closer, something sad brushing past on her face.

"It's not like I don't know about it, Stiles, it's just..."

Stiles licked his lips and stared down at the floor. She didn't need to clarify.

"You love Jackson..."

"Yes, I do. Incredibly much..." She sounded apologetic and while a selfish part of Stiles took some pleasure in that the majority of him didn't like it. More than anything he wanted Lydia to be happy. She deserved to be happy. And while Jackson was an asshole he seemed to have learned his lesson and was treating her and everyone else better. Baby steps.

"It's okay." He chuckled a little at the skeptic look she gave him. "Okay, no, it's not okay. Not yet. But I'm going to try."

"Good. You shouldn't get stuck on me, Stiles. You deserve better."

Stiles wanted to argue because there was no one better than Lydia – she was perfect – but he lost complete track of his thoughts when she reached up on her tiptoes and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. He was pretty certain that his brain short circuited for a brief moment.

When it all finally caught up with him he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and found that it was slightly easier to smile. Not by much, but a little.

"I hope you won't change your mind because this-" he gestured towards himself "- is a onetime offer. And you just declined. So don't come crying to me later."

Lydia rolled her eyes and gave him a slap on the arm.

"Cut that out before I change my mind and sic Jackson on you."

Stiles laughed before backing away from her, mourning how her hand slipped from his arm as he did. But it was for the best, really. He sucked in a shallow breath before smiling towards her.

"You know that you're the most beautiful and perfect girl I will ever know, right?"

Lydia smiled in that confident yet charming way that only Lydia could pull off.

"Of course I am," she replied without shame or compunction. But then again – she was Lydia Martin. And it was true.

 

 

Scott clambered into Stiles' Jeep later that afternoon and the first thing that came across the werewolf's lips was an equally scandalized and awed:

"Dude! Did you seriously go up against hunters to save Derek last night?"

Stiles blinked and turned towards Scott, one arm braced against his seat and the other against the steering wheel.

"Well hi to you too," he greeted with a small wave with his hand. "Polite as ever."

"Deaton told me everything and Stiles, that is so awesome!" Scott continued, oblivious to Stiles' sarcasm – or perhaps he was just immune by then. Both theories sounded equally believable.

"It is?" Stiles asked incredulously, not even trying to hide the baffled look on his face.

"Yeah. Of course it is." Scott gave him that completely honest and somehow innocent look that he always got when he wanted to convey something he thought was obvious. "You're an idiot but an awesome idiot."

"Gee, thanks Scott, don't get carried away with your compliments there."

Sarcasm was the best.

Scott laughed and punched him playfully in the arm which, before he became a werewolf, was a friendly little sign of bromance and shared happiness but with the new super strength? OW. Stiles fought the urge to rub his shoulder like a five year old and turned back towards the steering wheel instead.

"So Deaton told you everything, huh?" he asked as he put the Jeep out of park and drove back out onto the street. Scott nodded, the dorky smile falling from his lips.

"Yeah, or most of it I guess. About the other pack, the hunters and what we can expect from them."

Stiles worried his bottom lip and braced his left arm against the door, hand brushing over his buzz cut. He was pretty certain that he knew what the answer would be but he had to ask anyway.

"So you know that joining Derek's pack is a good way to keep yourself from getting taken again, right?"

Scott hesitated and the fact that he didn't immediately dive into some tirade about how Allison would never forgive him and that Derek was the spawn of the Devil showed that Stiles' best friend had grown over the last couple of months. He actually considered the question before letting his emotions rule his decision. Not that Stiles actually wanted Scott to join Derek's pack – he was neutral on that issue since he saw both benefits and problems with it – but it was comforting to know that Scott had some more sense now. If only a little.

It had always been incredibly fascinating to see how Scott relied on and cared for Derek but never trusted him or submitted to him. Stiles wasn't particularly certain if he would have been keen on doing that either but since he wasn't a werewolf it wasn't an issue for him. Scott, on the other hand, had an odd relationship with Derek where they both tried to decide over the other, never listened to each other but were willing to go to great lengths to help anyway. They never agreed on anything and never stopped doing things that pissed the other off. They were basically as close to being brother as two people could be without being actual brothers. Stiles thought that it was pretty hilarious but he would never voice it out loud. Neither of the two would appreciate his observations.

"I know," Scott answered at last, "but I can't say that I want to. I joined to help with Jackson but now that he's alright I'm not keen on staying. And it wasn't like anything happened when they took me."

"Yeah, about that. What actually _did_ happen, Scott?"

The young werewolf grimaced.

"I guess I wasn't as attentive as I should have been. I got home as usual and didn't even notice that something was off until I had rushed into my room to get my things. They jumped me and even if I tried to fight them off, well, there were three of them..."

Stiles nodded but remained silent so that Scott could continue. He focused on driving instead.

"So they dragged me off to the woods and just... sat there. For hours. I think that they were waiting for the rest of the pack to get there or signal them somehow. You said that there were more of them?"

"Yeah, the hunters said eleven so eight more."

"They didn't really _do_ anything, besides mock and tease me a little." Scott shrugged, as if he would have expected to be brutally assaulted. Which, in all honesty, Stiles had feared as well. Scott had gotten off easy considering the circumstances.

They both fell silent and Stiles focused on driving home to his house. Since they had missed out on last night's bro-time they were going all out tonight instead. Perhaps not the most responsible course of action considering that there were werewolves and hunters lurking about but there wasn't much they could do about that right now anyway. The hunters would hopefully take care of it.

"We should go see Derek," Scott announced suddenly and Stiles did a small jerk that caused the car to wobble on the road.

"What? Why? Why should we do that?" Stiles asked, voice pitched a little higher than usual.

"Because I want to talk to him," Scott replied, as if it was obvious. It wasn't.

"Well, I saw him last night and I _don't_ want to talk to him," Stiles groused, sinking down an inch or two in the driver's seat, sulking.

"Come on, Stiles. We need to make sure that they're alright!" Scott admonished.

"Do we have to?" Stiles whined. "Really? Do we really? I told Derek to keep his betas out the hunters' way."

"But that means that Derek might still get caught in the crossfire!"

"And that's bad _how_ exactly?" Stiles asked and Scott just gave him that reprimanding, disapproving stare that was surprisingly effective when it came to making Stiles do things he didn't want to do. "Come on, Scott, why do you do this to me? Do you hate me? Derek is _fine_. He's a tough guy."

Scott didn't answer – which was actually worse than any verbal reply would have been – and Stiles slowly felt how he buckled underneath all those good intentions. He didn't do it without muttering a couple of foul curses however, turning the Jeep so that they were heading towards the abandoned train depot instead. Scott gave him a dorky, beaming smile and Stiles felt a sudden urge to crash the Jeep just to wipe it off his face, but that would hurt Stiles and his baby more than it would hurt Scott, so no.

"He's not going to be happy to see me," Stiles warned.

"If you stopped trying to tick him off all the time he might be less opposed to your general existence," Scott replied carelessly, as if he wasn't pushing his human best friend straight into the jaws of the big bad wolf. Stiles pursed his lips.

"You are the worst friend ever. I'm making Isaac my new best friend," Stiles muttered.

Scott just smiled serenely, knowing a false threat when he saw one, because really, Scott would be Stiles' best friend forever. That was just how the universe worked.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have no idea how much I enjoy writing Lydia. Especially when she interacts with Stiles. Only Stiles and Derek-interaction tops it. Seriously. Lydia is a goddess.
> 
> There will also be a fair amount of Scott in this fic, in case that wasn't obvious. Because Scott is Stiles' best friend. Some people seem to forget that. I won't.
> 
> Hugs and kisses for my beta, [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum).


	7. Plus One

  


 

* * *

 

"This has to be the most depressing place to live in the history of ever," Stiles mumbled as he and Scott descended the stairs leading down to the rusty, filthy train depot. "Why would anyone want to live here? I wouldn't want to live here. Is Derek a hermit or something? Who am I kidding? Of course he's a hermit."

"You _do_ know that he can hear every word you say, right?" Scott asked while throwing a glance over his shoulder, looking both amused and appalled by Stiles' behavior, but really, Scott if anyone should have been used to it.

"I'm counting on it," Stiles replied. "If he's going to be listening in he will just have to put up with whatever I'm saying. It's actually a social experiment of mine, where I'm hoping that he'll _stop_ listening in when he realizes that all I do is talk shit about him. It's called positive punishment, Scott, a very famous concept within the study of human behavior when you want to change an undesired habit. Did you know that-"

"Stiles, not now perhaps?" Scott cut off with an apologetic but slightly exasperated look. Stiles snapped his mouth shut with an audible click. It might be true that now was not the most opportune time to discuss theories within the field of psychology.

Scott walked a couple of steps ahead of Stiles but there wasn't much to see. Rusty train carts, some rubble here and there and what might have qualified as a couch fifteen years ago off in one corner. No one could be living in that place.

"Derek!" Scott shouted. He sounded vaguely annoyed over the fact that the alpha hadn't greeted them yet. Stiles was all for that. He hoped that Derek was hiding behind a crate or something and would refuse to come out until they had left again. This place gave him chills. And possibly fleas.

"Maybe he's not home?" Stiles suggested hopefully.

"No, he's here."

Scott was confident enough of Derek's presence that Stiles' shoulders slumped.

"What do you want?"

Stiles gave a very manly squeak at the sudden growl behind him, the hairs at the back of his neck standing on end. He whirled around, misjudged and toppled to the side instead, crashing into one of the steel pillars keeping the ceiling supported. He clung to the beam, halfway to the floor, and started at Derek.

"Oh my _God_! You asshole! You did that on purpose!" Stiles accused. Derek merely looked at him, expression unreadable, and Stiles pointed a shaking finger at the alpha. "You nearly gave me a heart attack, you bastard!"

"If only," Derek deadpanned without as much as a twitch.

"That's just low, man. So low. You're like a grumpy eight year old, you know that, right? Getting back at me for talking bad about your crib. You are such a child."

The look Derek gave Stiles clearly told him that no, Derek did not agree and further discussion would include a fair share of persuasion of the violent kind. Stiles reluctantly shut up and focused on trying to salvage the miniscule amount of dignity he might have left.

"What are you doing here, Scott?" Derek asked while crossing his arms over his chest, which did wonders for the definition of his bare biceps. Not that Stiles was looking. Nope. Did Derek own anything but white wife beaters, grey Henleys, dark jeans and leather jackets? Stiles thought not. During a brief moment Stiles wondered what color Derek had on his socks but as soon as he realized what he had been thinking he snapped back to reality so fast he almost gave himself mental whiplash.

"We just want to make sure that you're all okay. Where's Isaac, Erica and Boyd?" Scott asked.

Stiles began inching towards Scott but it was difficult to do that while passing unnoticed. Then again, Derek seemed just about ready to ignore that Stiles even existed. That happened a lot as soon as Scott was present. It was as if Derek only had the mental capacity to focus on one person at a time – which on second thought was a rather probable theory.

Derek bristled, his eyes narrowing.

"They're fine."

Derek clearly took Scott's question as an insult to his leadership qualities, which were notoriously bad. The alpha was pretty shit at being the alpha.

"Where are they?" Scott asked again with a confused little frown, as if he couldn't understand why Derek seemed hostile. Sometimes Stiles suspected that Scott gave people that look just so that they would think that he was more stupid than he was, but he had no proof to support his little theory so far.

"Why would that matter, Scott? You said yourself that you're not a part of this pack anymore."

Derek sounded like a defensive, grumpy child and Stiles had to sing some lame pop ballad inside his own head not to snicker. Not that he couldn't understand where Derek was coming from. Scott was fickle and erratic and never made a decision on whether to join the pack or not. Instead he expected help when needed and gave some in return but he refused to commit. Stiles could understand if that was frustrating for someone like Derek, who had grown up in a strong, reliable pack. Scott must seem like the worst kind of rebellious little brother ever to Derek.

"I can still care about them," Scott replied, looking vaguely offended.

Stiles had managed to get closer to Scott than Derek at that point and settled for a moment. The two werewolves were barely aware of his presence anyway, judging on the staring contest they were in the middle of.

"Go ahead, but they're not your responsibility," Derek grit out and it was obvious that Scott was inches from opening his mouth and saying something very insulting. Like how Derek sucked at responsibility, unlike Scott, and needed to be kinder, like Scott. Stiles didn't disagree with Scott exactly – despite Scott's failures when it came to their friendship lately – but he didn't want to be caught in the middle of a werewolf brawl either so he decided to interrupt.

"We're wondering because something happened last night," Stiles piped up, earning himself a confused look from Scott and a scowl from Derek. Okay, so maybe Stiles hadn't told Scott about that yet but there hadn't been time considering how eager Scott had been to visit Derek. "We just want to make sure that it wasn't one of them who got hurt."

Stiles held up his hands in the universal gesture of not wanting any trouble. To his surprise Derek's tense shoulders relaxed even if the scowl still remained.

"They're fine. Erica and Boyd are with their families, Isaac's at work." Derek gave Stiles a contemplating look and raised an eyebrow. "I imagined that the sheriff's son would know all about what happened already."

Stiles felt his throat go dry. He licked his lips and scraped with his shoe against the concrete, breaking eye contact to stare down at his feet instead.

"My dad was out all night. That usually only happens when someone gets hurt or murdered, but that's all I know." It wasn't a lie but not the complete truth either. He had tried to get his dad to talk but it hadn't worked.

If he somehow showed that he wasn't telling them everything neither of the werewolves called him out on it.

"They found a body," Derek said, voice calm and even but he didn't look particularly happy. Beacon Hills had seen far too many murders for it to be funny or exciting anymore.

"A dead body?" Scott asked and Stiles had to bite his tongue not to give a sarcastic response, much like the time when Stiles had tried to convince Scott to come with him to find Laura Hale's body.

"Yes, a dead body," Derek replied in an annoyed and incredibly disbelieving tone, as if he couldn't believe that Scott had to ask. "What other kind of body would I be talking about?"

Scott looked sheepish for a moment before replying the single most awesome thing ever.

"... a body of water?"

Stiles burst out laughing and Derek looked at them both as if they had lost their minds. Scott was an awesome best friend. Derek gathered his calm soon enough, lips pressed tight and eyebrows low and menacing, apparently trying to ignore that he was dealing with two juvenile teenage boys.

"She had been dead for a day or two, a local girl in her early twenties. The police were working the scene the entire night but I couldn't find anything they hadn't already."

That sucked the fun out of the room. Stiles fiddled with the collar of his short sleeved shirt while Scott asked the question all of them already knew the answer to.

"Was it the other pack?"

Derek looked grim, which was never a good sign.

"Unless you'd like to believe that it was a mountain lion." Which was as good as a yes. Not that either of them had ever suspected anything else.

"Why did they kill her?" Stiles asked, which earned him a strangely doubting look from both Derek and Scott. He felt his temper rise just a little. "What? I think that we need to ask ourselves that question, alright? We know that they're bad an all but even if they did it for fun it would be good for us to know the reason behind it. That way it would be easier to make them stop."

"How?" Derek sounded surprisingly accommodating – or perhaps just less condescending than usual. It was a tough call.

"If it's for fun they're probably picking people at random where they find them, if it's to intimidate you, Derek, who are the leader of this territory-" Stiles ignored Scott's slightly wounded look because really, the other pack was not going to acknowledge Scott as an alpha of his own pack of humans. To them Derek was in charge "- then they're likely to pick people that strike a nerve somehow. Young people and children, those who are weaker due to age or sickness... People you'd want to protect."

You could say what you wanted about Derek and his methods – which Stiles did, brutally honest and as often as he could – but in the end the alpha always wanted the killings to stop, no matter who was responsible. He tried to keep people safe, Stiles knew that. He just sucked at it.

"But we can't keep an eye on every citizen in Beacon Hills," Scott said with a painfully sad frown.

"No, we can't," Stiles agreed, "but we can be there when we know that they might strike. I mean, they're hiding somewhere out in the woods, right?" He didn't even wait for confirmation before he continued, "And the hunters are out there looking for them. They can't risk just waltzing into town whenever they want to harm someone – if they even continue to do it but I'm guessing that we're not so lucky that they'll just stop – so they have to be smart about it. If they want a kid they'll have to target places where they are guaranteed to find one, since they can't risk making runs into the city without getting what they came for."

"That still leaves a lot of places and a lot of questions. We still don't know what they want with this." Derek sounded more civil than he usually did while talking to Stiles but that might have been because they were focused on something else. That always seemed to make them capable of cooperating. Stiles and Derek had never been a bad team after all, just a very reluctant one.

"I know. I'm just saying..." Stiles shrugged half heartedly. While he knew that he was onto something there wasn't much they could do. Not at this point in time.

"We'll set up a perimeter and patrol it. That might help to keep them out," Derek said with a finality that was both impressive and annoying.

"But what about the hunters?" Scott asked. "Stiles said that they won't hesitate to shoot us too."

Stiles wasn't the only one who noticed that Scott automatically counted himself as one of those who would patrol the perimeter judging on Derek's amusedly raised eyebrow. Scott really didn't make a good impression when it came to making a decision about joining Derek's pack or not and then sticking with it.

"What about them? We'll simply avoid them," Derek replied flippantly, as if it was the simplest thing in the world, but Stiles knew that it wasn't.

"There are at least seven hunters out there," Stiles pointed out, jumping into the conversation once more despite the disapproving and slightly annoyed glare Derek gave him. "They're armed with wolfsbane bullets and won't hesitate to shoot. It's not something to just shrug off, Derek. One bullet is all they need, you know that."

"We can handle it," Derek growled but for once Stiles wasn't deterred or threatened by it.

"You couldn't even handle it last night! You would have died twice if it wasn't for me – _again_ , I might add!"

It wasn't like Derek hadn't repaid the favor when the situation arose but he was definitely taking the situation too lightly. Or trying to play it off as no big deal. Either way Stiles was very tired of the macho act because real lives were at stake. It was a slight change, yes, because Stiles was always the first to complain if something was too much of a hassle – unless his dad, Scott or Lydia was involved – but it was time to get some priorities straight. He didn't want anyone to get hurt. He didn't.

Derek growled deeper, eyes flashing red for a brief moment, but he seemed to think better of it when Scott took a step forward. It wasn't threatening per se but the message was clear none the less – Scott wouldn't let Derek hurt Stiles. At any other time Stiles would have been flattered and pretty impressed but right now he was more upset with Derek's silly attitude.

"What would happen if any of the pups got shot, huh? Like Isaac. What would you do then, Derek? You think that we would be as lucky as we were last night? Because I'm telling you, it was _not_ easy to convince the hunters to help save your life, no matter what you think. I had leverage on them when it came to you but I don't when it comes to one of the betas. They wouldn't care."

Derek stiffened noticeably when Stiles mentioned Isaac – so did Scott – but it wasn't until the end of his tirade that the alpha spoke.

"What kind of leverage?" Derek sounded cool and indifferent but the surprised tilt to his eyebrows gave him away. Stiles chose not to reflect on the fact that he could detect Derek's moods by just looking at his eyebrows.

"I told them the truth. That the other pack would most likely steal the newly made omegas to their own ranks to make themselves stronger. The hunters didn't want that so they gave me a bullet." Stiles said it as if it wasn't that big of a deal but all three of them knew that it was. Derek didn't reply.

"I could try talking to Allison?" Scott said suddenly, looking at Stiles rather than Derek which, in all honesty, was pretty funny.

"Uh... Allison isn't our biggest fan at the moment..." Stiles ventured hesitantly but he realized that he would have to clarify, which he did after a sigh and a frustrated brush of his hand through his hair. "She didn't like that I came there to save Derek's life. She wanted us to let him die for killing her mother and I might have shouted at her. Pretty rudely."

Neither Derek nor Scott said anything to that. Derek was blank and unreadable. Scott was obviously worried about Allison but apparently didn't think to blame Derek for the situation either, which was good in Stiles' opinion. Scott needed to stop making all of his decisions based on how Allison would react and in this specific case it all stemmed back to Derek trying to save Scott's life. The fact that someone else died was not okay but there was no way to change that now. Scott still looked pained.

"But I could give it a try... she might be able to talk to them or at least give us some information."

Scott sounded so hopeful – probably at the prospect of seeing Allison – that Stiles didn't really have the heart to refuse. He threw a quick glance in the alpha's direction but for once Derek didn't seem inclined to talk. It was unclear what that meant – that Stiles was allowed the authority to make the decision without fuss from the resident alpha – but it felt strangely monumental. Like something he should know about had happened and changed the dynamics of their group. Stiles tried to ignore it.

"Yeah, give it a try. But she might not be very forthcoming, be prepared for that," Stiles replied, to which Scott nodded, eyes lighting up in hope. Stiles prayed that Allison wouldn't shoot Scott down.

There was a stilt in the conversation and Stiles suppressed his urge to fidget. Just as he was about to suggest that he and Scott should leave Derek spoke up again.

"Being an omega will be dangerous, Scott."

Stiles wasn't surprised. As soon as something bad happened Derek gave the sales pitch of joining the pack another shot. His tenaciousness was actually pretty impressive. Scott seemed less impressed, judging on how he pressed his mouth into a thin line.

"I'm not joining, Derek."

"You say that, all the time, but you always end up with us anyway. You always end up asking for help. Can't you tell that you are drawn towards the pack? Why are you being so difficult, Scott?" Derek seemed slightly frustrated but considering that it had to be the fourth or fifth time they had this discussion some impatience was probably due. What Stiles didn't understand was why neither of them could just accept defeat and give up. At that point he didn't care if it was Scott or Derek – he was just sick of the dancing back and forth. Stiles never knew where their loyalties were and whether Derek was someone they wanted to help or stop, one day from the next. It was just confusing.

"Because I don't want to join!" Scott shouted.

"But you still want to be with us!" Derek shot back, looking far less relaxed than he had at the beginning of the conversation.

"Has it ever occurred to you that I might just not want you as my alpha?"

Oh, that had to burn. Not that it showed in any other way than a clenched fist but it was proof enough that Derek heard and disliked it.

"And has it ever occurred to you that all of these threats might be easier to handle if we do it together? As one unit?" Derek replied after a moment or two of silence, voice clipped and strained.

"You never want to handle them in ways that I would agree on!" Scott exclaimed, making a wide sweep with his arms. "And we've managed so far! We can do it again!"

"Oh yeah? For how long?" Derek's eyes were burning red. "You think that you can protect everyone on your own, Scott? You are just one guy. Someone will get hurt eventually because you can only be in one place at a time. That's why you have a pack, Scott – they can look after the ones you can't. We would be able to help you protect your mother, Allison and Stiles."

A strange sensation fluttered in the bottom of Stiles' stomach and if he hadn't known better he would have thought that it was butterflies. But it didn't mean anything. Nope. Not at all.

"Don't talk about trust and being united, Derek. You don't trust anyone and you won't rely on anyone else than yourself. That's not how you handle things in a group!" Scott said with a snort.

"I tried trusting you and look where that got me! You tricked me and sold me out to Gerard Argent!"

The silence that fell after those angry words was deafening. It wasn't just that Derek obviously hadn't intended to say them – it was that he actually sounded both hurt and desperate when he did. Stiles felt his heart constrict, for the both of them. They were just too different to understand each other's reasoning but they essentially wanted the same thing. Stiles took a deep breath.

"You're both idiots," he said, voice clear and firm in the silent warehouse. "Scott had to do it to protect his mom but yeah, he was pretty nasty about it. Derek sucks at listening to others and should really work on some anger management but he does try. I get that you're both frustrated but for heaven's sake, stop fighting. You're both assholes. Neither of you trust the other so stop pointing fingers. And stop fighting about it. Geez."

Scott had the decency to look mildly guilty while Derek just scowled, but both took a silent, symbolic step back. Stiles had some understanding for them both.

Scott had refused to join the pack for so long that he probably didn't see all the angles anymore. It was true that it would be difficult to be at Derek's command since the alpha handled things differently than Scott did, but Derek had a point about safety and belonging. But that didn't mean that Derek was allowed to keep on pushing and that he would get away with not cooperating and playing well with others.

Allison was also something Stiles knew lay at the foundation for Scott's reluctance. Scott didn't want to give her a reason to say no to him and while Stiles understood if she didn't want Scott banding up with the man she blamed for her mother's death, it was still pretty nasty to condemn Scott to a life as an eternal lone wolf. But it wasn't Stiles place to meddle. Not really. He just usually did anyway.

"Besides, Derek, you don't want Scott in your pack." Both werewolves looked up at Stiles at those words. Stiles grinned. "Because you would get me as a package price, right Scott?"

He looked at his best friend and Scott beamed towards him in a matter of seconds.

"Yeah, definitely."

"Where Scott goes, I go," Stiles explained helpfully, "so if you get Scott you get me. And after that you would never get rid of me."

Derek seemed inches from shivering in disgust, which Stiles found both amusing and insulting. He wasn't really that bad, was he? He was useful, wasn't he? He had done a lot to help, hadn't he? He felt a painful pinch in his chest and quickly shoved those thoughts aside. No need going there.

"I'll work with you and help you with the perimeter, as long as you promise to make sure that everyone is careful," Scott said after a moment. "But I'm not pack."

Derek seemed tempted to argue but in the end he just clenched his jaw and nodded. Stiles suspected that it was as good as it was going to get so he cleared his throat and nodded subtly towards the exit. Scott, bless him, caught the obvious hint and looked back to Derek.

"Let me know when you need my help. I'll talk to Allison in the meantime."

The alpha gave Scott another nod before he turned wordlessly and walked towards one of the train carts. Scott seemed inches from stopping him but since there wasn't much else to say Derek soon disappeared out of sight.

"I think you hurt his feelings," Stiles drawled, earning himself a tired and slightly troubled smile from Scott. Stiles walked over and patted his best friend on his shoulder. "Come on. We've got some gaming to do."

Scott still seemed a little hesitant but eventually followed Stiles towards the stairs and away from Derek. Who was probably sulking and brooding. Stiles wasn't quite sure what he felt about that but he forced himself to forget it in favor of a heated conversation with Scott about which was the best game of last year.

 

 

The evening was as good as Stiles had hoped. He got to play games with Scott while drinking ridiculous amounts of soda and throwing chips and Oreo's at each other when they thought that cheating had somehow been involved in their losses.

His dad came home from work looking tired and worn but as soon as he caught sight of Stiles and Scott shouting at the TV something soft settled in his gaze. Stiles grinned, wide and happy, and his dad smiled back. Their conversation that morning wasn't forgotten but it was obvious that his dad was softening. If Stiles behaved they might be able to salvage their relationship.

They ate re-heated zucchini and mushroom lasagna from two night previous and his dad complained more than Scott did, no matter if there was real cheese on top of it or not. Stiles endured it all with a patient, magnanimous smile and piled more peas onto his dad's plate.

When his dad asked what their plans were for the next day Scott announced that he and Stiles were going to practice some lacrosse since he had the day off from work. It wasn't something Stiles was going to argue about but it still shocked him a little. His dad looked pleased though, no doubt remembering that night when Stiles had been the hero of the entire game. Stiles memory of that evening was clouded by what had happened afterwards but there had been no doubt that he had played well. Perhaps lacrosse practice was a good idea. He might even make first line if he kept playing like he had during that game.

It was a great evening. Everything felt so good – so right. His dad looked tired but he smiled and Scott was being his usual charming self. Stiles enjoyed it. He treasured it.

When his dad chuckled at some lame joke Scott had told a soft smile lingered on Stiles' lips. If only this had been the norm. If only he had been allowed to have this instead of werewolves, kanimas and hunters. If only his dad hadn't been forced to worry about his son too, on top of all the troubles he met through his work. If only Stiles had been a better son.

Stiles couldn't help wondering, in that moment, why every night couldn't be like this one.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thoroughly enjoying naming the chapters in the same silly manner that the episodes of the show are. Just so you know.
> 
> And gasp! Some plot and actual planning going on! There will be more soon.
> 
> Thank you so, so much, you guys, for all the lovely comments, subscriptions and kudos. You're all great!
> 
> Thank you to my beta [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum), who admittedly spent most of this chapter giggling at the silly boys.


	8. Pack Loyalties

  


 

* * *

 

Practicing lacrosse with your best friend might sound like an awesome idea in theory, but when your best friend happens to be a werewolf that theory can just go fuck itself. It wouldn't be so bad if Scott actually kept his promises of not using any wolf powers – which he did the majority of the time – but he seemed to slip on the most crucial of moments, always catching the shots Stiles almost scored with. So yeah, Stiles might have gotten a little competitive after that, which only riled Scott up more.

It was still more play than actual practice and there might or might not have been some lightsaber battles with their lacrosse sticks but it was all good. Stiles was enjoying himself. He wasn't entirely certain if he was allowed to considering the young woman who had been murdered, the werewolves lurking about and the hunters wanting to kill all the werewolves in sight, but what could he do? As frustrating as it was they could only wait for more news.

Scott had talked to Allison over the phone before they headed out to the lacrosse field but Scott was tight lipped about what he had been told. No amount of Stiles' nagging, puns and outright orders had made Scott relent. So Stiles had dropped it and decided to focus on lacrosse instead. Which would have been easier if Scott would just stop cheating. Because Stiles knew that Scott did it on purpose.

By then Scott had good enough control of his werewolf side that it would take a tremendous amount of stress to make him slip by accident, which Stiles honestly wasn't scary enough to produce. Not with how they were laughing and playfully tackling each other to the ground. Granted that Stiles was the only one who would have bruises in the morning but it was a fun thing to share none the less.

His cheeks ached from laughing as he lay sprawled on the grass, sweaty but pleased, with Scott right next to him. Scott wasn't even panting while Stiles was pleasantly sore from the exertion of running back and forth, trying to tackle his friend to the ground. Bloody werewolf powers.

It was one of the less stifling hot days of summer but it was still warm, the fabric of Stiles' t-shirt sticking to his skin in a rather uncomfortable way. But it still felt good. This was what he had wanted. Sure, it was clouded by the foreign wolves and hunters but the situation wasn't all that dire yet. If they were lucky the hunters would be able to handle it pretty soon. Stiles wasn't going to count on it but he could always hope.

Scott huffed out a laugh next to him and Stiles found himself grinning, just because he could. It felt great to have Scott back. They hadn't spent much time apart since they first founded their friendship years ago and Stiles wasn't ashamed to admit that he had been a little lost without Scott. Everyone always thought that Stiles was the one calling the shots and while that might be true he still needed Scott. Scott was one of his centers – a person he could orbit around to gain stability and direction from – and Stiles truly had been lost and off course without him.

Scott was the more innocent of the two, the one who wanted to do good just because it was the right thing to do. Stiles wanted to do good too, he was just a little more reluctant to make an effort. He didn't want to waste his energy on people who would be ungrateful, but Scott taught him better. Scott taught Stiles that while Scott might have had the heart and conviction to save people Stiles was the one who had the actual means. Stiles was the one with the plans, the brains, the devotion and the constitution to do it – if he just made an effort. They made a great team that way and Stiles was beginning to learn. Stiles cared about more people than those closest to him and he worried about the baby betas and sometimes even about Derek, even if he didn't want to admit it.

He kept it close to his heart, as if he feared that it was a weakness somehow. Scott surely didn't consider it as one and Stiles knew that it was silly but a part of him clung to the fact that if he only cared about a few people he would be less likely to get hurt again, like he had when his mother died. He wouldn't lose them. He wouldn't have to feel as if he had failed them. But more and more people were sneaking under his skin and he couldn't stop it. He got invested and wanted to help and care and mend. Stiles didn't know if he should be worried about that or not. It was in his nature to shield and nurture but he hadn't really done it with so many people before.

Scott suddenly sat bolt upright and Stiles twitched, staring at his friend in alarm. Scott's face was a mask of concentration with a thoughtful little frown and Stiles felt a chill travel down his spine. Scott must have heard or smelt something. Stiles was just about to ask what was wrong when Scott started grinning.

"It's okay," Scott said with a laugh, relaxing into a more comfortable position, "it's just Isaac."

Stiles released a sigh before sitting up as well. Werewolf powers were pretty nifty.

"You're like a guard dog," Stiles informed with a teasing grin, just as Isaac came within sight further away on the field. Scott gave Stiles an offended look but Stiles didn't take it particularly hard considering Scott's dorky grin.

As Isaac came closer the smile on both of their faces faded. The curly haired werewolf looked beyond troubled. Stiles swallowed harshly and Isaac came to a stop a couple of feet away from them. Isaac seemed to forego the black leather jacket in the stifling heat, dressed in simple, normal clothes that made him look surprisingly small, as if he wasn't a dangerous predator and taller than most of the people in their odd little group. His hands were pushed deep into his pockets, shoulders pulled up tight in that guarded, defensive posture that spoke volumes about his past.

"Hey... what's up?" Scott sounded just about as worried as Stiles felt.

Isaac cleared his throat and winced.

"I came to tell you that they've found another one... another body."

Something in Stiles' stomach dropped and he could almost hear how Scott reacted the same.

"But it's only been a day!" Scott exclaimed, getting to his feet. Stiles did the same although less hurriedly. He placed a hand on Scott's shoulder, just to calm him a little, if possible.

"Scott, it was a day since the _found_ the other body... not since it was killed, right?" Stiles looked to Isaac for confirmation, who nodded sadly.

"This one was... fresh." Isaac seemed vaguely nauseated by his own words, which was a huge change from when he had threatened to kill Lydia without batting an eyelash. Being faced with actual death and life-threatening situations had apparently taken the fun out of that for Isaac too.

"Who was it?"

Stiles was glad that Scott asked so that he didn't have to. Isaac stared at the grass.

"An eight year old boy."

Stiles was pretty certain that he stopped breathing. Scott looked ready to puke and Stiles honestly wasn't that far behind himself.

"Are you-... are you serious?" Scott sounded horrified and Stiles felt pain and fear and guilt and panic twist in his own gut. A small boy. That couldn't be right. Sure, a lot of people had gotten hurt in Beacon Hills ever since the werewolves came to the scene but never a child. Never someone that young. They were supposed to be safe. Stiles realized with a sickening roll of nausea that he might have been right. The other pack might try to intimidate Derek by killing people on his turf. Defenseless people. Like children.

"Derek found him early this morning-"

"What, what?" Stiles blinked. "Derek was the one who found him?"

Isaac nodded.

"He didn't say why he was out but apparently he found the body in the woods and called the police anonymously. Then told me to go and tell you guys."

"He didn't find anything to help us track the other pack?" Scott asked, almost hopefully, but Isaac shook his head with an apologetic frown.

"We're not supposed to look for the other pack, remember?" Stiles pointed out. "That's supposed to be the hunters' job."

"Well they're not doing a very good job, are they?" Scott shouted angrily. Stiles raised his hands and took a step back, but he couldn't really blame Scott for being upset. Stiles was too. He was just quieter about it. Scott took a deep breath. "We need to do something."

"I hear you," Stiles replied because this changed things. One death had been enough and now there was another so shortly after the first. At this pace a lot of people would die and waiting around just wouldn't cut it anymore. "So what do you suggest?"

Scott took a moment to think. Stiles knew that Scott wasn't always the best when it came to making plans or getting them to work but he had ideas that Stiles could usually alter into something worthwhile. Scott had good instincts, as long as they weren't clouded by Allison's presence.

"It's true that we can't go after them without risk getting hurt ourselves... but perhaps we can find better ways to keep them out?" Scott sounded hesitant.

"You mean besides patrolling?" Isaac asked. Derek had already informed them about that, apparently. Scott nodded.

"Yeah. There has to be something... some kind of-" Scott fell silent so abruptly that Stiles feared for his best friend's health there for a while, but he could also see the light of an idea brightening up Scott's face "- we should talk to my boss. We should talk to Deaton."

That was actually a pretty good idea. Deaton seemed to have knowledge of some rather helpful things when it came to the supernatural. Stiles doubted that there would be some sort of miracle repellent spell – because if that was the case Deaton really should have told them earlier, somewhere around the time when the kanima was at its worst and Gerard Argent started torturing teenagers – but there had to be something. Anything would be better than what they were doing now.

"Okay, to the Batmobile, puppies. We're going to the vet," Stiles exclaimed, waving his arms in a herding motion to get the two werewolves to move. Neither Scott nor Isaac did.

"The Batmobile?" Scott looked confused and Stiles gave him a glare.

"The Jeep, dude. Don't hurt my feelings like that. The Jeep. Come on!"

That made Scott look even more confused, if that was even possible. Stiles had the distinct feeling that he was faking it.

"But you're not Batman, Stiles."

"Shut up, Scott, I am disowning you! Right now!" Stiles turned to Isaac, face completely serious. "Hi, are you shopping for a new best friend? Because I totally am."

Scott laughed, wrapped an arm around Stiles' neck and started dragging him towards the Jeep. Isaac followed with a quirky little smile of his own.

"I told you – you're not Batman," Isaac teased playfully as he followed the other two, Stiles flailing and hissing like an insulted kitten.

"That's it! Both of you are getting your membership cards revoked! I have no friends!"

Scott and Isaac just laughed and Stiles secretly enjoyed it, if nothing else because of the pride on Isaac's face when Stiles called him friend.

 

 

Deaton seemed pleased to see them. Then again, Stiles had rarely seen Deaton be anything but calm and collected. He didn't even seem fazed by Isaac's presence, as if it was completely natural for him to be with them. But perhaps it was. Perhaps Isaac came to visit Scott at work sometimes? Stiles was definitely not jealous about that. At all.

"What can I do for you, boys?" Deaton asked with that patient smile of his, palms resting against the steel slab between them.

They were gathered around the examination table at the back of the clinic, away from possible patrons, and Stiles tried not to remember how Derek had looked when he was passed out on top of it. It was a strangely difficult image to push aside.

"We wanted to ask if you have anything that could help us against the other pack of werewolves. We need to keep them out of Beacon Hills, if possible, while the hunters try to take them down."

Scott was down to the point, back straight, hands clenched and eyes determined. He was so heroic that Stiles would have swooned if it wasn't for the fact that it would have been disgusting.

Deaton hesitated, looking troubled.

"I'm not sure if there is anything I can do to help..."

"An eight year old boy was killed last night," Scott grit out, clearly not mad at Deaton but slightly short none the less. The vet gave Scott a long, searching look before he sighed.

"That is beyond tragic, but I don't have anything that could help right this moment. I would need to look into it before I can give you any definite answers."

Scott was obviously not pleased with the response but he seemed to know when arguing wouldn't make a difference. Deaton said that he would try but that he needed time. That was only reasonable. Stiles carefully patted his friend on the shoulder and Scott gave him a thankful nod. Stiles turned back towards the vet.

"You don't have any tips? At all?"

Deaton smiled weakly.

"Stand united."

"What? As one pack?" Isaac asked, eyebrows quirked. Deaton nodded and it only took a split second before Scott was protesting.

"We've managed without that before."

Stiles licked his lips but decided to remain outside of the conversation for now. He tried to pretend that it didn't bug him that Scott kept on refusing. It had begun to seem as if Scott did it on principle or some stupid misconception rather than with actual reason. Sure, Stiles got all the bad sides, like obeying Derek and possibly giving Allison a reason to hate him, but wasn't the situation serious enough to make it obvious that something needed to be done? Was it really so bad to join? Derek actually listened to Scott – occasionally – so it wasn't like Scott wouldn't have an influence over what happened and what decisions were made. Stiles was pretty certain that Derek would actually listen _more_ to Scott if they were in the same pack. Scott would probably become Derek's second even.

"But you've never faced another pack before," Deaton replied evenly, "only separate individuals."

"How big of a difference can it be?"

Now Scott was just being dumb and Stiles rolled his eyes. To his surprise Isaac was the one who spoke up.

"It's very different, Scott. You wouldn't know since you've never actually been in a pack for real and sure, I've never been without one..." Isaac hesitated but kept his gaze firmly on Scott. "It makes all the difference in the world. You're stronger, better and you're not alone. Or at least that's how it's supposed to be."

"So?" Scott sounded petulant and Stiles caught a disapproving glint in Deaton's eyes. It disappeared as fast as it had appeared though.

"It means that they will be organized," Deaton clarified, voice slightly reprimanding. "They will be united and strong. It will be difficult to face them not only because they have a larger number but because they know how to fight together."

"We can still find ways to defeat them," Scott insisted.

"Scott, come on. Why are you being so stubborn about this?" Isaac seemed genuinely confused and Scott gave him a glare.

"Because Derek isn't a good alpha. You think that he is?"

Isaac froze, as if he was caught between a rock and a hard place, which Stiles assumed that he was. All the betas were required to be loyal to their alpha but Derek really wasn't the best example of one.

"No, he..." Isaac grimaced while pushing his hands deep into his pockets. "I was just hoping that, you know... if you joined things might get better..."

The accompanying puppy eyes to that sentence had to be illegal in at least fifty states. Stiles had no idea how Scott hadn't melted into a puddle on the floor yet. He did hesitate though.

"Why don't you want to join, Scott?" There was a hint of pleading in Isaac's voice that surprised Stiles. He hadn't even realized that Isaac had gotten that attached to Scott.

"I just..." Scott seemed lost for words and Stiles began to suspect that his theory of Scott not having any actual reasons was true. There was a fair share of arguments, disagreements and violence between Scott and Derek but they always looked after each other. Couldn't Scott see that?

Stiles couldn't believe that he was actually beginning to lean towards wanting Scott to join Derek's pack but he was. He truly was. There was a point in them being stronger when united, even under Derek's unorganized command. And Isaac might be on to something when he hoped that it would get better if Scott joined. Scott would be able to steer Derek towards more reasonable decisions and the pack would be stronger that way – they could protect more people. It wasn't something Stiles would voice out loud however, or not yet anyway.

"It's a tough decision," Deaton said suddenly, drawing all eyes to him, "and it shouldn't be made lightly. But one large pack fights better than a small one with two omegas. That is a fact. It's up to you to decide how you use that knowledge."

Scott was frowning. Which meant that he wasn't thinking of joining just yet. Stiles wanted to smack him. He knew that it wasn't his decision but Scott was being unnecessarily stubborn. Stiles might not like Derek but sometimes you had to take chances. It wasn't the safest way to make choices but it was definitely better to take a chance with Derek than assuming that they would be able to handle such a large pack on their own – and that was without counting the problem with the hunters.

Isaac seemed inches from wanting to complain but before he got the chance to both he and Scott froze. In the next second the dogs further in the back began barking and howling. Stiles looked from the werewolves to Deaton and all had the same grim look on their face. Great. That had to mean that more werewolves were approaching.

Deaton held up a hand, signaling for them to remain where they were, before he headed out towards the front. If Stiles hadn't been completely sure that Deaton could take care of himself he would have been worried about the vet going out there on his own. Now he just tried to be as quiet as possible while still fidgeting like crazy with the hem of his t-shirt.

Isaac suddenly relaxed next to him and Stiles was tempted to ask why, but his question was answered the next moment when Deaton came back with Erica and Boyd in tow. Stiles didn't even try to hide his surprise because they were quite literally the last two people he had expected. Even Derek stood higher on the list and Stiles wasn't even particularly eager to see him.

They still had that miserable, haunted look on their faces but Erica tried a weak smile when she met Stiles' gaze. They were clutching each other's hands so tightly that Stiles was surprised they didn't hear bone creaking. He didn't know quite from where it came but he was suddenly struck by what a pretty couple they would make. A scary but pretty couple.

The silence in the room was deafening, neither Scott nor Isaac seeming to know what to say. That naturally meant that Stiles had to be the one to break it.

"Hi there, guys. How's summer treating you?" he asked, complete with a dorky little wave and all.

Erica and Boyd looked at each other in a deep, wordless way that made Stiles feel as if he was staring at something very private. Or alternatively something very perverted.

"It's... okay," Erica ventured after a long silence and Stiles didn't even have to be a werewolf to hear the lie in that.

"What are you guys doing here?" Isaac didn't sound accusing or displeased but he looked vaguely uncomfortable, as if he didn't know how to behave towards the two other betas in his pack.

"We came to..." Erica hesitated and Boyd finished the sentence for her.

"We want to help."

Scott wasn't the only one who frowned at the admission but he was the first to speak.

"Aren't you already?"

Erica bit her lip – and action that was incredibly distracting to Stiles – and shook her head.

"Not really. Derek doesn't trust us, but we want to help, if we can."

Stiles glanced in Isaac's direction but the curly haired werewolf was staring resolutely at the floor. There were so many cracks in the small pack. Stiles feared that Scott would see that as yet another reason not to join. Which was a shame really because Scott would undoubtedly help balance things out with his caring nature. Perhaps it was time for Stiles to start nudging things along.

"Scott will talk to Derek about it," Stiles announced, earning himself shocked stares from everyone except Deaton. Few things seemed to shock Deaton.

"I will?" Scott asked, surprised and confused. Stiles gave him a dry look.

"Yes, Scott, you will. You are going to help with the patrols and you want to make sure that everyone is alright. Well, then you better talk to Derek about it. Make sure that Erica and Boyd are included." Stiles gestured towards the two wolves in question, Boyd looking stoic as ever while something akin to hope had begun to burn in Erica's eyes. "You need their help."

Sometimes Stiles forgot that just because they were werewolves it didn't mean that they weren't still teenagers too. He had been reminded of that fact when he, Erica and Boyd had been locked in the Argent's basement together. They still scared him but at that time he had seen as much fear in their eyes as he knew had been in his own.

Just because they had healing powers and super strength didn't mean that they weren't teenagers. It didn't mean that behind tortured in a basement and seeing one of their classmates being brutally beaten didn't fuck them up. It didn't mean that they didn't need support, care and somewhere to belong. It actually seemed as if they were in an even greater need of it. And sadly enough that was something Derek wasn't quite ready to provide, probably because he himself hadn't healed from everything he had been through. Or at least that was what Stiles assumed.

Stiles was itching to do something about it. He wanted to solve it and fix it. He wanted to see them smile again. She might scare him but he did have a soft spot for Erica. It was partly because she had admitted to having been in love with him, he wouldn't lie about that, but even more so because she seemed to trust him to some degree. Or at least value his presence. When she was calm she was actually a very funny and fascinating girl and Stiles was a little sad that he hadn't noticed that before. If he hadn't been so preoccupied with Lydia he might have been happy with Erica by now. She definitely had qualities he treasured and he wasn't even referring to her looks when he said that. She had a strong will and while her new confidence was a little over the top she was an interesting girl to be around.

Stiles honestly didn't know much about Boyd – which he felt rather guilty about now – but he knew that it wouldn't take much before he trusted him. Stiles might like Isaac best and have a soft spot for Erica but Boyd was the most reliable one. The one he would come to if he needed to get something done – if he was certain that Boyd wouldn't shoot him down, that is. Boyd had a calm, reassuring presence that made him seem so much older than his actual years and while Stiles knew that they weren't likely to ever get along as people – Stiles talked too much and Boyd too little – Boyd was still someone he definitely wanted on his team.

"I'm not sure if Derek-" Scott began but Stiles quickly interrupted him.

"Yes, he will. You need all the wolves you can get but Jackson isn't likely to offer to help so you better make sure that Erica and Boyd are included," Stiles said it with the kind of finality that Scott always accepted – this time being no exception.

"Yeah, you're right. You guys should be in on this," Scott agreed eventually, clearly not seeing the depth of it all but wanting to do the right thing none the less.

Stiles did though, especially when Erica gave him a stronger, more confident smile and Boyd stretched as far as a thankful nod. They just wanted to be included again. Yeah, Stiles was going to do his best to fix this. Now was not the time to be suspicious and hesitant. They needed to gather their forces and be prepared to face the other werewolves in case the hunters failed.

And Stiles was a little partial to Erica and Boyd, just because he had seen first hand what they had gone through. Abandoning their pack was bad, he got that, but suffering torture at the hands of Gerard Argent wasn't something you just shrugged off. Stiles knew all about that. Not that it was a particularly pleasant bonding experience but he could understand their reasoning. They had tried to flee but ended up in the middle of it instead. He could sympathize with them for that. And eventually Derek had to start relying on them again. He couldn't afford not to. With Scott's insistence it would be hurried along, Stiles was sure of it.

Stiles met Deaton's gaze and wasn't even surprised by the praising nod he received. The vet seemed one step ahead of most people all the time so he must have understood what Stiles was aiming for. At least partially. Stiles wanted to fix things. It was high time that someone fixed things.

He might still not like Derek or know completely why he was getting so invested but the situation was just ridiculous. People were suffering and dying while Scott was caught up in his silly spat with Derek, leaving Erica and Boyd lost and alone. It frustrated Stiles to no end that they were more interested in arguing than solving the actual problems. He could admit that he was a little worried about his dad as well. As the sheriff he could easily get caught up in the murders and be targeted by the werewolves.

Stiles joked a lot. He was the first to admit that. He always sounded harsher than he was when it came to offering help or putting himself in danger but when push came to shove he always shoved. As hard as he could. He helped Scott overcome his feral impulses when he first became a werewolf, never once backing down despite almost getting killed by his own best friend. He managed to solve the riddle with the Hale house fire and help defeat Peter Hale despite being completely human. He treaded water for over two hours to keep Derek alive without as much as a thank you in return. Damn right he was going to make this into a real pack and stop all their bitching and moaning.

Never mind that he was just one human who really shouldn't meddle and had no real power when it came to making people unite. But he would manage somehow. He always did. This was what Stiles was good at. He solved problems. He was the smart one. He was going to solve this.

Scott deserved it because no matter what he thought he thrived from being helpful and belonged in a pack. Erica and Boyd deserved it, desperately needing some safety after being tortured at the hands of Gerard Argent. Isaac deserved it, to finally have somewhere to belong and people to turn to. Derek deserved it because even if he did fail more often than not he always tried, despite the ups and down and the hardships he had faced. Heck, even Jackson deserved it if he ever felt like joining, since he if anyone could need some stability and genuine care after the mental abuse he had been through.

It was high time to get shit done. And Stiles was the one who was going to make it happen.

Now he just had to figure out how.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also known as the bromance chapter.
> 
> We've now reached the halfway point of part one and we are getting somewhere, people! I hope that you will enjoy this new chapter and what is to come!  
> See you in a week! 
> 
> As always I want to thank my beta [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum).


	9. Escalation

  


 

* * *

 

So maybe Stiles had been a little over-dramatic when announcing that he intended to unite the Beacon Hills pack. He might not have done it to anyone else but himself but he ran into snags in the road the very next day. A snag called Allison Argent.

Stiles honestly didn't dislike Allison. She was actually pretty cool. She was funny, clever, didn't take shit from anyone and shot people with arrows if they disagreed. Okay, so Stiles might be a little _afraid_ of her but that was only natural. She was unbalanced and unreliable since her mom's death but she wasn't a bad girl. Stiles was still terrified that she might try to shoot him for what he had told her three nights previous though.

So when Scott called ridiculously early the following morning to ask Stiles to come by at the vet's clinic so that the three of them could talk it was understandable if he was a little hesitant. And not only because Scott woke him up too damned early. Of course Stiles went there in the end but he drummed spastically on his steering wheel the entire way over. And knocked his head on the door frame as he got out of the Jeep. And stumbled over the threshold. He was pretty darn nervous in other words.

Allison was already there when Stiles arrived. Scott had this hopeful, heartbreaking look on his face while Allison seemed uncomfortable. But there was a small smile on her lips. They were apparently far from okay but this was a definite improvement compared to how they had been in each other's presence the last month or two. Easy does it, apparently.

The moment Stiles stepped inside Allison's back straightened and her gaze hardened. No, she had definitely not forgiven him for what he had told her that night, even if it had been the truth. He swallowed nervously and gave an awkward wave before pushing his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, just to keep them from fidgeting.

"Stiles!" Scott seemed completely oblivious to the animosity practically oozing from Allison but Stiles wasn't surprised. Scott never saw anything but Allison's brilliance. "Allison has news from the hunters."

"Oh?" Stiles walked a little closer, hesitant and cautious, and Allison must have caught the scared expression on his face because she slumped a little, looking vaguely guilty. Yeah, she wasn't a bad girl. Her emotions were just running on overdrive at the moment.

She cleared her throat and gave Stiles a weak, apologetic smile. Stiles counted that as an improvement even if it didn't reach her eyes. She was trying. He gave her credit for that.

"I've talked to Walter and they have agreed not to harm any of the Beacon Hills werewolves," Allison declared, voice firm despite her insecurities.

"What? Really?" Stiles couldn't help feeling both confused and impressed. Allison gave him a crooked little smile.

"It wasn't that difficult really. They understand that it's better to focus on the biggest threat instead of making more enemies, at least until the situation with the other pack has been resolved."

"That's great, isn't it?" Scott said, proud and eager as if Allison had hung the moon. It kind of made Stiles want to puke.

"It is. But how do they plan to keep them apart from the other pack? They don't know how all of them look like, right? They have to walk around with red bandanas around their arms or something?"

Stiles was just trying to be practical but the look Allison gave him suggested that he had somehow insulted her. Stiles couldn't figure out why.

"They should keep out of the woods for one." Allison's voice sounded a little sharper and Scott seemed to snap out of his lovesick haze at the tone. "The hunters can't and won't shoot anyone in town, even if they happen to be from the other pack, because people would notice. So keep out of the woods and if need be they will have to identify themselves as residents of Beacon Hills."

"It sounds reasonable," Scott said, giving her a confirming nod. "We'll tell the others as soon as we can."

"So you didn't hand out pictures perhaps? And contact information?" Stiles asked Allison, trying for a joke but ending up closer to an insult without even meaning to. He just wanted to make Allison smile again and drop that stupid tough girl routine she had going on. She wasn't like this. She wasn't supposed to be cold, hard and calculating. She was so much better than that and now that Gerard wasn't pulling the strings Stiles had hoped that she would come to her senses again. She was apparently on her way but it took longer than Stiles' patience could handle. He knew that it was unfair of him to expect that much of her but he was getting antsy by all the angst and suffering he was surrounded by.

Allison gave him a withering stare.

"I'm not that stupid, Stiles. It's for the best to keep the hunters from knowing the identities of the local werewolves if we can. I have no intention of getting them all killed."

Stiles was sorely tempted to ask if that applied for Derek as well but he held his tongue. Allison seemed to sense his urge though judging on her challenging, downright defiant, glare. Okay, maybe Stiles should try not to antagonize her but she was being a little unreasonable and a little annoying. Or so he told himself.

"Allison, that's not what Stiles meant at all," Scott said, surprisingly enough coming to Stiles' defense. Stiles would have balked if it hadn't been for the fact that he would have ruined Scott's efforts. "We're all just a little nervous and frightened, okay? Neither of us likes what's going on."

Allison clenched her jaw and gave Stiles a sideway glance but eventually she relaxed, nodding solemnly.

"I know. It's just… there's a lot going on. Sorry, Stiles."

She was definitely the bigger man in the situation because Stiles couldn't quite manage to offer an apology of his own. Mostly because he knew that it wouldn't be an honest one. He wasn't as sorry as he should be. Stiles wasn't as forgiving as Scott. Which made the whole situation with Derek all the more hilarious because Stiles was willing to trust him despite having been the one most firmly against it before. It was just that his priorities had changed. Other people could get hurt and if uniting was what would help them then that's what Stiles wanted them to do.

He did give her a smile though, albeit a shaky one, and a nod.

"But this will give us more freedom, right? It will be easier to find ways to keep the other pack out when we don't have to bother about the hunters." Scott was hopeful, as always. Stiles wanted to tell him that not much had changed except from a vague promise not to shoot any Beacon Hills werewolves as long as they identified themselves, but he held back. No need to ruin Scott's enthusiasm. They would just have to remember to be careful.

"Yeah, we should be able to work something out now that we don't have to hide from the hunters as much." Stiles was already trying to figure out ways but since he wasn't entirely sure what he had to work with it was difficult. His thoughts kept returning to the murdered boy and every time they did his concentration went out the window. He silently wished that he had taken a little more Adderall that morning.

Scott started talking to Allison about random, innocent things, apparently forgetting about the crisis at hand – as sometimes was the case when Allison came within a hundred feet. Or he might have been trying to cheer her up which was definitely a more noble effort but still sickeningly sweet. Stiles stifled his urge to sigh or strangle someone – preferably Scott – and announced that he was going home. If they were done with the serious business he had no intention of staying to watch Scott and Allison pine after one another. It was so not what he wanted to spend his day doing.

Scott looked up when Stiles spoke, which earned him a brownie point or two since you could never be too sure to gain his full attention with Allison around, and gave him a bright smile.

"Yeah, sure. See you later, right?"

"Yeah, later," Stiles replied with a nod. "Bye, Allison."

"Goodbye, Stiles."

Stiles didn't even try to decipher the look on Allison's face and instead turned and walked out of the clinic. Allison would come around but Stiles suspected that it would be best for them all if he didn't spend that much time with her until she had. She was frustrating like this and he wasn't very good at tiptoeing around problems. Ignoring them, yes, but his brain-to-mouth filter wasn't the best and that would definitely result in him stepping on more toes, even if he didn't mean it. And he was honestly not the one who could sit her down and talk her through it. She didn't want help from him, he knew that, even if he too had lost his mom. Not that he wanted to talk to her about losing his own mom. He didn't. So it was best this way. For all of them.

That didn't stop him from muttering under his breath as he climbed into his Jeep again, making sure that the words were indistinguishable enough that Scott wouldn't hear them even if he managed to tear his attention away from Allison long enough to listen in. Stiles slumped back into the driver's seat with a sigh. Scott was going to be difficult now. Meeting Allison would make him even less inclined to join Derek's pack and Stiles knew that he didn't have enough sway over Scott to convince him. They were best friends, yes, but Scott loved Allison and Allison didn't like Derek. Scott, like the puppy he was, wouldn't want to make her disappointed.

Stiles snorted and chewed on his thumbnail. He would have to talk to Scott eventually and try to convince him that joining forces was a good idea. But perhaps it was just as well that Stiles got another day or two because that would give him time to gather some arguments of his own.

He jumped almost high enough to bump his head on the car roof when his phone suddenly started buzzing. His arms gave a spastic twitch that he had no control over and it took a moment before he gained enough sense to scramble for his pockets. His breath caught when he finally managed to fish out his phone and see that Lydia was the one calling. Lydia never called him. He had told her to call if anything happened but she hadn't, not until now. The sheer amount of dread that rose within him was almost enough to keep him from answering. He prayed that she was alright.

"Stiles!" She didn't sound alright. She sounded terrified and panicked and Stiles felt as if he had been punched in the gut. Lydia never panicked unless things were really, really bad. "Stiles! I need help! It's Jackson!"

Stiles didn't even linger on the fact that she called about her boyfriend and that it should have hurt. His every instinct told him to help her, nothing else.

"What happened, Lydia? Did he lose control?" It was Stiles' first reaction – a fairly reasonable one.

"No, no." Lydia took a deep breath, her voice coming out stronger and less panicked as she continued. "He called me. The other pack is after him."

Stiles felt a chill travel down his spine but he pushed back the worry and the fear.

"Lydia, where is he? Did he tell you that?"

"He was out running with Danny-"

"What? Danny was there too?" Stiles definitely didn't need this. They didn't need another person to get tangled up in all of this even if it was probably just a matter of time before Danny found out anyway. You couldn't be best friends with a werewolf without noticing some oddities.

"Yes, Stiles, stop interrupting!" Lydia hissed. "They were out running, near the preserve, when Jackson noticed that they were being followed. He called me and told me to get help."

Wow. It had to have hurt Jackson's pride something terrible to have to ask for help. But considering that Danny had been with him Stiles could understand it. Not even Jackson wanted to risk getting his best friend hurt if there was a way to avoid it. Jackson probably didn't have enough control to shift in front of Danny without risking harming his best friend as well.

"He was _sure_ that it was the other werewolves? The hunters are close to the woods so it could have been them." Stiles didn't want to doubt Lydia or Jackson, not when lives were at stake, but he had to know what they were up against.

"I asked him the same thing." Of course she had, it was Lydia, who was even sharper than Stiles. "And he was sure, Stiles. He told me not to call again, just to make sure that I didn't give away their position, but they're out there somewhere. I don't know if they caught him or not but someone has to find him. Someone has to help him."

Stiles could have gone his entire life without hearing that pleading, panicked tinge to Lydia's voice. She was more dignified than any other person would have been in her situation but Stiles caught the nuances other people might not have noticed. She was terribly afraid that she would lose Jackson.

"Yeah, Lydia, hang on. Just stay where you are, okay? I'm getting Scott."

Well, that might have been a fancy way of putting it considering that all he did was to lower his phone, press it against his own chest – so that Lydia would have to hear him – and yelled at the top of his lungs. He was still parked outside the clinic so there was no way that Scott wouldn't hear him, even with Allison in the same room.

"SCOTT! Code Red! Assemble!"

There might have been a particularly urgent edge to his voice or perhaps Stiles had managed really well with Scott's obedience training but it didn't take more than four second before Scott came barreling out the back door, heading for the Jeep. The surprise was that Allison was right behind him, a light backpack in her hand. Stiles wasn't going to argue but he was impressed with their response time.

"What happened?" Scott looked a little wild but definitely ready to get down to business as he threw open the passenger door and allowed Allison to climb into the backseat. She did it nimbly and with such grace that Stiles would have stared if he hadn't been too preoccupied with the task at hand.

"Lydia called. Jackson and Danny are somewhere at the preserve, possibly under attack from the other pack. No time to get the others. Just get in. We'll handle it as best we can." Stiles tossed his phone to Scott as soon as the werewolf had settled into the passenger seat. "Here, ask Lydia to give us more details."

Stiles started the car at the same time as Scott asked for directions. They didn't have much to go on besides the fact that Jackson and Danny had been on one of the hiking trails and since they might have been forced to veer off to avoid the werewolves they could be anywhere at that point.

Stiles glanced at Allison when she pulled out that miniature crossbow of hers.

"Glad to see that you came prepared." There wasn't an ounce of sarcasm or judgment in his voice, only relief, and Allison gave him a confirming nod and a small, tentative smile. He could at least try to mend some bridges. Besides, if they were about to get caught up in a battle with the hostile werewolves they would definitely need her skills. Stiles knew that.

Stiles drove as fast as he dared without outright breaking any traffic laws, not wanting to get caught by his dad or any of his deputies. It was late enough that the morning commuters were off the streets but still early enough that the lunch rush hadn't started. Stiles was infinitely grateful for that.

Scott gave him vague directions until they reached one of the parking lots connected to the hiking trail. Jackson's Porsche stood parked down the otherwise empty row of spaces and Stiles pulled up in the spot next to it. Stiles barely registered that Scott handed his phone back but he raised it to his ear on pure reflex while tumbling out of the car.

"Are you there yet?" Lydia asked through the phone.

"We've found Jackson's car. It's parked next to the trail," Stiles replied while throwing a glance in Scott and Allison's direction. They seemed to be discussing their next course of action. "I have to hang up, Lydia, but I'll let you know as soon as we find them, alright?"

Stiles could hear that Lydia wanted to argue but her sense of dignity won out in the end. Let it never be said that Lydia was weak and would cling to other people for help and guidance.

"The second you find him," she demanded, voice tight but determined. Stiles wanted to point out that it was physically impossible to call the moment he caught sight of Jackson but knew that Lydia would literally kill him for making such a comment. So he refrained.

"Will do. Just stay safe, Lydia. We'll find him."

"You better." She was aiming for flippant, Stiles could tell, but it came out a lot more pleading. He managed to squeeze in a quick goodbye before Lydia hung up and he had turned towards the other two in the next moment. He slipped his phone back into his pocket and made a sweep with his arm, indicating the woods around them.

"Plans?" he asked. Allison and Scott looked at each other, clearly not in agreement yet.

"We could try to track them..." Scott said a bit hesitantly.

"But that would take a lot of time," Allison continued. "The best idea might actually be to go in there and just call their names until Jackson hears us."

Stiles raised an eyebrow. That was definitely not a very subtle or fancy plan but sometimes easy was the way to go, he knew that.

"You don't think that we'll draw the other werewolves to us?"

"If we do then they're at least not attacking Jackson and Danny," Allison replied with a casual shrug which Stiles didn't find comforting at all. Probably because he wasn't armed, a werewolf or a warrior princess. He was just human.

"There are eleven of them. We can't handle that." Stiles sounded more worried than negative and that was probably the only reason why Allison didn't glare at him.

"Not this close to town. They wouldn't risk running into the hunters," she explained. "The group has to be smaller – perhaps two or three."

Stiles took a deep breath before he nodded. He knew that Scott would go with whatever plan Allison had so he was the one she needed to convince. And he was convinced. He didn't have any better ideas himself so he might as well embrace the one Allison offered. This was a thing she was really good at after all.

"Okay, sounds good enough. We don't have time to be making any grand plans anyway," Stiles conceded and gestured for Scott or Allison to take the lead.

He didn't really care which one of them did, he just knew that he shouldn't be the one. He might be the brains but he was like Bambi on ice when it came to trudging around in the forest tracking and being generally awesome. Give him a computer, some books and paper and he would research the shit out of anything you put in front of him but no, he did not have much to offer when it came to physical badassery. Being chronically uncoordinated would do that to you.

Allison and Scott ended up side by side with Stiles trailing behind them. He didn't really have much to provide to the situation but he wasn't going to stay by the Jeep either. He was grateful that neither Scott nor Allison even suggested that he'd do that. They wanted him with them.

Once they had gotten a short distance they started calling out for Jackson and Danny. Stiles tried to remain as attentive as possible but his thoughts kept going back to grim scenarios of what might have happened. And what would happen when they found them.

If they were lucky Danny hadn't seen anything but if he had they definitely owed him an explanation. Things were getting messier by the day and Stiles wasn't quite sure how much more pressure they would be able to handle. They had only been given around two months of breathing space before the next disaster hit. Was this going to be his life from now on? Never being able to relax or just enjoy life because the next supernatural tragedy might hit? Stiles wasn't so certain that he would want that.

A twig snapped and while Allison and Scott crouched into battle positions Stiles jumped like a scared rabbit. He really needed to work on that if he ever wanted to be taken seriously in a fight.

"Don't shoot!" a voice called out and Stiles actually felt himself relax when he recognized it as Jackson. Allison and Scott did the same.

It had been a strangely uneventful little excursion and Stiles had the distinct feeling that it was too easy somehow. Then again, both Danny and Jackson looked haggard and worn when they came walking between the trees. The right sleeve of Jackson's t-shirt was torn by something that could only be claws and while some traces of blood lingered the wound itself had healed over. Well, that definitely answered whether they would have to explain things to Danny or not. There was no way to make excuses for ridiculously fast healing.

"Are you alright?" Scott asked as soon as Jackson and Danny came close enough that he wouldn't have to shout. Jackson looked up briefly but glanced to Danny almost immediately after.

"Yeah, we're... fine." Jackson nodded, jaw tight, and they did seem whole apart from Jackson's torn shirt. Stiles assumed that they had had some close contact with the other werewolves but had managed to get away somehow. Stiles was just glad to see that Danny was unharmed. It wasn't easy to be human and go up against werewolves, even more so if you hadn't been aware of their existence until the moment they attacked you.

It was pretty obvious that while Danny was not wounded he was far from okay though. His eyes were a little too bright and unfocused and Stiles hoped that it wasn't anything more serious than mild shock. Danny was a very clever and stable guy. Once he grasped the concept and was able to let go of the fear Stiles was pretty certain that he would take it like a champ, just like Lydia had. Danny had just been unlucky enough to be introduced to the supernatural in a rather unpleasant way. Stiles had full understanding for that, which was why he took charge of the situation, just to make sure that they could get Danny somewhere calm and safe as soon as possible.

"Okay, let's move out before the werewolves find you again. We'll deal with details later. Back to the cars." Stiles made a quick wave with his hand and Scott, like the good puppy that he was, nodded obediently and started heading back.

Jackson seemed inches from arguing just on principle – because of course following Stiles' orders would have been beneath him – but Stiles silenced that with a sharp glare and a subtle nod in Danny's direction. There was no hesitation after that, Jackson falling in line behind Scott even if he kept glancing at Danny ever so often. Danny kept his gaze mostly on the ground. It was unsettling in a way but also to their benefit because they didn't have time to start answering questions in the middle of the woods. Stiles was pretty certain that Danny knew that too and kept quiet for precisely that reason.

Stiles ended up at the back with Allison and both of them pretended that it didn't make them feel a little awkward. To occupy himself Stiles pulled out his phone and dialed Lydia. There was barely two seconds between the call connecting and her answering.

"Did you find him?" she almost hissed, the worry and stress making her less smooth than usual. Jackson's head snapped up before he looked over his shoulder at Stiles, no doubt hearing Lydia's voice despite the distance between them. If Stiles had ever wondered whether Jackson actually loved Lydia back he got his answer in that moment. The look on Jackson's face wasn't even something he could describe. It was just _there_.

Stiles swallowed and looked away, not wanting to see any more of that if he could help it. Pain twisted in his gut but he tried to ignore it.

"Yeah, we found both of them. They're a little shaken but otherwise unharmed."

Well, kind of. Jackson had been harmed but it had healed already. Lydia would no doubt kill Stiles for not telling her that detail – because she would notice it as soon as she saw Jackson again – but Stiles didn't have time to explain it right at that moment. Better to keep her calm when she couldn't see for herself that Jackson was actually fine.

"You're coming here. All of you," Lydia snapped, worry apparently making her a lot bitchier than usual, if that was even possible. It wasn't a question or a suggestion – it was an order. Stiles recognized it as such and accepted it.

"Yes, Lydia, we're coming to your house," Stiles confirmed, partly for her sake and partly for those around him who were no doubt listening in. Since he heard no complaints he assumed that the other four in their little group agreed.

"Be here within fifteen minutes or I will have your head, Stiles," she snarled before hanging up. Queen Lydia had spoken.

Stiles took a deep breath and allowed his phone to slip back into his pocket. He looked briefly at the others but soon followed their example and kept an eye out for potential threats instead. He doubted that they would be attacked now that their group was larger but Stiles was pretty certain that he wasn't the only one who felt watched as they made their way back to the cars.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course I had to include Danny somehow. We all know that he's one of the best characters in the show so I'm not going to write a huge fanfic without him featuring in it somehow. Seriously.
> 
> Also, Allison is still being tricky... but it's shaping up at least.
> 
> Hug and love for my beta [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum).


	10. Standstill

  


 

* * *

 

Lydia opened the door the same moment Stiles raised his hand to ring the doorbell. She must have been spying out the window but Stiles couldn't really blame her for that. Nor for how she brushed past him and threw herself into Jackson's arms, completely ignoring the other four people who were present.

Stiles swallowed around the lump in his throat and boldly walked into the house, leaving Jackson and Lydia on the porch. The other three followed hesitantly behind him but it didn't take long before Lydia remembered her duties as a hostess. She slipped from Jackson's embrace, tossed her hair over her shoulder and raised her chin, quickly reverting back to her self-confident, brilliant self.

"The living room," she declared before breezing past her other visitors, Jackson trailing in her wake thanks to their interlaced fingers.

Stiles gave Scott a quick look but Scott just shrugged and followed Lydia. Allison made sure to close the door and soon everyone piled into Lydia's living room. Danny was the first to sit down, his entire body going slack as soon as he hit the cushions. A brief flicker of worry and genuine care flitted across Jackson's face but he hid it fast enough that only Stiles and Lydia seemed to catch it.

Allison inched closer to Scott while Lydia seated herself in the couch opposite to Danny's, pulling Jackson down with her as she went. Her expression was pinched but judging on the calculating looks she gave Danny she probably understood that he had seen more than he should have and that an explanation was in order. For some reason her gaze traveled to Stiles, as if to urge him to talk. Stiles flinched and pointed foolishly at himself, as if to confirm that she was really looking at him. Lydia rolled her eyes before giving him a firm nod. It was scary how much of an order it managed to be even without words.

Stiles cleared his throat nervously and licked his lips. He had done this before with Lydia, sure, but there hadn't been an audience then. Stiles rubbed a hand over his short hair before looking at Danny. As if sensing the shift in the room Danny looked up, meeting Stiles' gaze. Stiles tried a smile and Danny actually smiled back, but it was a little faint.

"So this is what's been going on lately?" Danny asked, voice a little uncertain and hoarse but admirably calm. Stiles sucked in a deep breath before nodding. No one else seemed to take on the responsibility to talk so Stiles would just have to do it, as Lydia ordered.

"Yeah. I can imagine that it's a little... hard to believe." Stiles saw Danny glance in Jackson's direction but there was surprisingly enough no fear in his gaze. Confusion, disbelief and a certain amount of caution but no hate and no panic.

"I always knew that there was something..." Danny took a deep breath and chuckled weakly. "But I would have put my money on drugs instead of-... this. Whatever 'this' is."

"Werewolves," Stiles offered helpfully. He could see that Danny's initial reaction was to deny it – like most properly functioning humans would – but he seemed to hold it back.

"All of you?"

"Oh, God no!" Stiles exclaimed, wincing a little at his loud exclamation. "Scott and Jackson are. As well as Isaac, Erica and Boyd at our school."

Danny nodded to show that he had understood. He was taking it very calmly.

"And Derek.," Scott reminded.

"Oh yeah, right. Derek too," Stiles amended. "Derek Hale. He is the alpha – meaning the leader – of Isaac, Erica and Boyd."

Danny frowned, looking from Scott to Stiles.

"Hale? _That_ Hale?"

"Yeah, the one who lost his family in that horrible fire years ago, but you actually know him as Miguel, sooo..." Stiles scratched his neck awkwardly while Scott gave him a confused look.

"Your cousin Miguel?" Now Danny sounded amused and a little teasing. Scott looked like he had stepped into the Twilight Zone while Lydia seemed intrigued which was probably a very, very bad sign. Stiles wasn't even going to look at Allison.

"Well, he's not actually my cousin, obviously," Stiles said, as if that would stop all the other people in the room from staring at him. Because they were. And they didn't stop. "I was just trying to cover the fact that I was hiding a fugitive in my room, okay? My dad happens to be the sheriff so it would have been a very bad thing if anyone caught on."

No one seemed to call him out on the fact that if he indeed was the sheriff's son he probably shouldn't have harbored a fugitive to begin with. Stiles blamed it all on Derek though. Derek was the one who had made the brilliant decision to hide out in the Sheriff's under aged son's room, not Stiles. Derek honestly deserved a medal for that genius plan. Then again, he hadn't been caught because Stiles' room was probably one of the last places where they would have looked. But Stiles wasn't going to admit that to anyone, least of all Derek. He was still a creepy stalker who sneaked into far too many teenage boys' rooms.

"I never believed that he was your cousin anyway," Danny said casually. Stiles blinked and let his mouth hang open in confusion for a second or two.

"Oh? That's... okay..."

Stiles almost wanted to ask him why he hadn't said anything – why Danny hadn't thought it strange that Stiles had had an older guy in his room and lied about who he really was – but the meaningful look Danny gave him kind of said it all. It said it all and a little more. Stiles really didn't want to think about it in those terms because Derek was Derek and looked like he did and Stiles was, well, Stiles and everything that entailed – including being a rather horny teenager.

It was ridiculous and impossible and kind off flattering that Danny even thought that Stiles had a chance with someone like Derek but no, so not possible and definitely not what had been going on. At all. His dad would kill him. Him _and_ Derek actually. He would kill both of them. Not that any funny business between him and Derek would ever happen – it wasn't even within the realms of possibility – but his dad would no doubt shoot them both.

"Moving on!" Stiles announced, voice high pitched and cheeks burning. Scott was looking like he had no idea what was going on – thank God for that – while Lydia had a knowing little smile on her lips that frankly scared Stiles half to death. "There's a lot of ground to cover on this, if you want the full explanation?"

Danny took a deep, stabilizing breath before he nodded.

"I do. I have a feeling that I will need it."

"You're probably right about that..." Stiles mumbled before taking a seat next to Danny on the couch. "So, it all started with the murdered girl found torn in half out in the woods..."

 

 

Stiles inched his way into the kitchen, not trying to sneak exactly but definitely avoid making too big of a mess of himself.

"Stiles." Lydia's voice was crisp and precise, like always, and it made Stiles jump half a foot into the air. He covered it quickly when Lydia turned to face him. A gathering of mugs stood on the counter before her and the coffee machine was already humming with activity.

"Uh, yeah... hi," he said like the fool he was but Lydia was either too used to it by now or had judged him as a helpless case because she didn't even blink. She did cross her arms over her chest though and Stiles found it amazing that someone so small could be so terrifying.

"Spit it out, Stiles. We don't have all day."

She was distinctly less kind than she had been the last time he had visited but he had somehow expected that. Lydia never liked showing her weaknesses or coming off as soft so considering that she had gotten her point across that time she saw no need to be nice now. It was a very Lydia thing to do.

They were standing in the kitchen while the other four were still seated in the living room. After Stiles – with the help of Lydia and some inputs from Scott – had told Danny about the supernatural business going on in Beacon Hills Lydia had declared that they needed refreshments. There were still details to the whole kanima incident that they left out for Jackson's sake but Danny could consider himself informed.

Jackson was actually the one who had been the most quiet during the entire conversation and Danny had, surprisingly enough, not questioned that. Stiles got the distinct feeling that Jackson was feeling guilty somehow, perhaps because he hadn't told Danny about what had been going on or maybe because he had almost gotten them both killed.

Danny handled the knowledge of werewolves admirably well in Stiles' opinion even if there were some doubt over certain details and he seemed to want to shout that all of it had to be a sick joke. But it wasn't. Danny would get some time to calm down but all in all things had gone surprisingly well. Stiles couldn't help wondering why people were so accepting when it came to the supernatural but he assumed that seeing really was believing.

"Oh, and by the way? I don't appreciate you omitting details. Don't do that again," Lydia snapped while giving Stiles a murderous glare. "Jackson was hurt."

Oh. Stiles had hoped that Lydia wouldn't bring that up. He grimaced and raised his hands in surrender and apology.

"It had already healed over when they reached us. I just figured that it would be easier not to explain it over the phone."

She gave him the same level, fierce look and Stiles had to avert his gaze. But he wasn't going to promise her not to do it again. And she didn't push.

"What do you want, Stiles?" she asked while turning back to the tray with refreshments she was preparing. Stiles glanced around before he reached out a hand and pushed the start-button for the empty smoothie maker that stood on the polished, spotless counter. It started buzzing obnoxiously and Lydia gave him a look as if he had gone insane. For about two seconds that was, until she must have realized what he was up to. Stiles took a step closer and lowered his voice enough so that he hoped that none of the two werewolves would be able to hear him over the sound of the blender.

"Lydia, you need to talk to Jackson about joining Derek's pack."

Lydia frowned but seemed more uncertain than usual when she answered.

"Jackson doesn't want a pack."

"I know, Lydia, and I can't blame him. He doesn't want to lose control, right?"

She looked back at the mugs but didn't reply. Which was as good as a yes.

"I don't think that this is going to solve itself as easily as we had hoped. An eight year old boy was murdered two nights ago. You've heard about that, right?" It had been all over the news and few people within Beacon Hills had been unaffected. Lydia nodded mutely, her fingers running along the brim of one of the mugs, as if she felt a need to keep her hands occupied. "I'm not telling you to make him join by force, I'm just asking you to talk to him about it. Ask him if he might change his mind."

The buzzing from the blender was getting really annoying by then but Stiles endured it for now.

"Why?" Lydia asked, looking at Stiles with a blank, unreadable expression. Stiles sighed.

"Because I don't think that we can handle it otherwise. We need to be organized."

"Derek isn't organized," she replied with a snort and yeah, Stiles wasn't going to argue about that.

"That's the point, Lydia. Scott and Jackson are on their own, fumbling in the dark." He gestured towards the living room. "And Derek and his pack are weak and confused. We don't stand a chance against an organized, hostile pack. We don't. Do you honestly think that we'll survive like this?"

Lydia took a deep breath, her lips pressing together into a firm line.

"Lydia, you know that we won't. I know that a lot of shit has happened between all of us but we need to do something! And I think that uniting the werewolves under one alpha would give us that. Unluckily enough Derek is the only alpha around but that doesn't mean that we can't make it better – teach him how to be better."

"And who would do that? Scott? You?" She had a biting, insulting edge to her voice that Stiles tried to ignore but it still sent a jolt of irritation through him.

"All of us."

Lydia gave him a look that was difficult to interpret.

"You think that it could be done?" Her voice was void of any emotion, as if she didn't want to give Stiles any clue as to what she was really thinking. It worked. He scratched his neck before making a sweep with his arms.

"You have any better ideas? Trust me when I say that Derek isn't exactly my favorite person in the entire world but I'm sick of us running around in circles on our own, getting hurt in the process. I don't want to feel that panic again, when I thought that no one would help me and everything was lost. I don't think that this is a miracle cure and it definitely won't be easy but I've had it with the lies, the schemes and the selfishness – even my own! If uniting under Derek is what it will take to keep another kid from getting brutally murdered then that's a very small price to pay!"

Scott and Jackson had to be wondering what on earth they were making in the kitchen considering how long the blender had been buzzing but Stiles didn't have the energy to care about that. He was staring imploringly at Lydia, inches from falling to his knees and begging. He needed an ally in this and if Lydia agreed he was pretty certain that he could expect things to be settled within a couple of days. There was nothing Lydia couldn't accomplish.

Lydia sighed before reaching out and turning off the smoothie maker. Stiles tried to ignore that it brought her close enough to him that he could smell her perfume. She settled back and gave him a long, deep stare and Stiles tried his best not to fidget.

"I'll try," she said after a couple of breathless moments on Stiles' part. He sucked in a breath in relief and Lydia held up a warning finger. "I'm not promising anything. But I will try. But only because I don't want Jackson to get hurt."

Stiles could live with that. As long as he had someone else working towards the same goal he felt as if he might actually manage with the endeavor. He gave her a thankful nod and a silly, dorky grin.

"You are the best, Lydia."

She gave an amused huff before raising an elegant eyebrow.

"Of course I am, stupid."

He just raised his hands and bowed out of the kitchen. A giddy, triumphant smile lingered on his lips though, until he had to wipe it off before entering the living room again.

 

 

After dropping Allison off at her house Stiles drove Scott back to the animal clinic. Several hours had passed since the emergency call and Stiles wasn't the only one who winced when remembering that Scott had been the only one there when they left. Meaning that the clinic had been left unattended while they had been out hiking in the woods and explaining about werewolves to Danny. Stiles parked next to the back entrance and cut the engine.

"How mad do you think Deaton is with you right now?"

Scott took a deep breath, no doubt dreading going inside.

"Considering the circumstances he might be a little more forgiving… but I'm guessing that I'll be doing a lot of the nastier chores for a while."

Stiles patted Scott's shoulder consolingly.

"Perhaps he didn't notice?" Scott asked hopefully, which earned him a dubious stare from Stiles.

"Deaton notices pretty much everything. You have realized that, right?"

Scott slumped back into the passenger seat and groaned. At least Scott had the benefit of a boss who knew about the supernatural. Stiles was pretty certain that if he had had a job over the summer he would have gotten fired in a matter of days due to all of his sudden disappearances.

Stiles gnawed on his bottom lip and beat his thumb against the steering wheel. He knew that it was too early to start bugging Scott about the pack situation but if he had managed to get Lydia on board then perhaps he could convince his best friend too.

"Hey Scott, can I ask you something?"

Scott turned towards him, expression open and honest. He seemed a little worried though, probably because Stiles never really asked for permission to speak.

"Yeah, sure."

"How come you don't want to join Derek's pack?" Stiles figured that it was best to just get down to the point immediately. Rip it off like a band aid.

Scott's expression turned sour within an instant.

"You too? Why is everyone nagging at me about that?" Scott seemed sullen but also a little hurt, which of course made Stiles feel guilty. It wasn't Scott's fault that he was a werewolf. Scott had a lot more on his shoulders than he should ever have to bear, Stiles knew that. It was just difficult for Stiles to really understand why Scott was so determined not to join.

"I'm not telling you that you should, Scott, I'm just asking why you're so negative towards it."

Well, Stiles _wanted_ to tell Scott to join Derek's pack but he wasn't going to. So that was technically not a lie. It was Scott's decision, Stiles knew that. It was just that his decision could influence so many other people that Stiles wanted to nudge him in the right direction.

"Why aren't you negative about it? You hate Derek!" Scott exclaimed, looking both betrayed and very confused.

"I do! Well, most of the time..." Stiles sighed and let his hands slip from the steering wheel and into his lap. "It's just that I'm getting tired of all this back and forth business and I'm really anxious about this other pack. And I'm worried about Erica and Boyd... and Isaac. Even Jackson! Before we weren't real targets, you know? We just happened to come in between the murderous alpha and his revenge, or the insane high school student who wanted revenge, or the insane old man who needed a bite from Derek to cure his cancer."

Stiles looked at Scott but his best friend was staring resolutely out through the passenger window. He was listening though and hadn't left the Jeep yet. Stiles considered that to be a positive sign.

"This time they might be out to take the territory. They want to either kill or absorb the existing werewolves. You are a target this time, Scott, and not just in for the ride. There's no way to slip through the cracks and get out on a technicality."

"And what's it to you? It's not like you're a target! You're not a werewolf!" Scott hissed.

Stiles actually reeled back a little before averting his gaze. That hurt. Stiles knew that he wasn't a werewolf but his best friend was. His best friend who he had done everything within his power to support and keep alive for the last months. Stiles thought that he had earned himself some credit. Besides, he was notorious for getting drawn into things even when he wasn't involved. Stiles basically had a huge sign on above his head saying 'Collateral Damage'. His right leg started bouncing up and down as if that could help him vent his frustration.

"Stiles..." Scott sounded pleading and pathetic. Served him right. "I didn't mean it like that. You know that. I'm just really not in the mood for this."

"Neither of us are, Scott!" Stiles exclaimed and glared back at Scott. "Do you have any idea how all of this feels like for me? I'm useless! I don't have superpowers like you! I can only sit by the sidelines and watch! Do you have any idea how frustrating that is? I know what's going to happen but I can't do a thing to stop it! But you can!"

"I'm not sure if I can, Stiles!" Scott defended, gesturing wildly inside the car. It was probably not the best place to have this discussion but neither of them made any attempt to step out either.

"Not alone you can't."

"And you think that Derek is going to be of any help? You can't even stand to be in the same room as him!"

Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Scott, I'm not _five_. Just because I don't like someone it doesn't mean that I can't cooperate with them. That's just plain ridiculous." Stiles leg was still bouncing up and down nervously and he began scratching at the bottom of the steering wheel with his fingernail.

"Why are you suddenly a part of Derek's fanclub?" Scott asked with a frown and Stiles really couldn't help that he chuckled humorlessly at that.

"I don't like Derek and I think that he's a pretty horrible alpha but he's the only one we've got and it's not like he can't get better. I'm just picking the lesser of two evils. Meaning Derek."

Scott sighed before crossing his arms over his chest. It wasn't a petulant gesture but definitely a tired one. All of them were pretty tired by then.

"But you've always been the one to say that we can't trust him. Remember when I first became a werewolf? You never wanted his help then."

That might be true but it was also ages ago. So much had happened since then that Stiles didn't even feel like the same person anymore. Back then he might have been ignorant enough to think that he and Scott could handle everything on their own but that wasn't the case now. They wouldn't stand a chance.

"It's not about wanting his help or not, Scott. It's about managing the situation. I don't think that we can take on a pack without being in one ourselves." Stiles knew that he might not be included in the calculation on account of being human, but he wanted Scott to know that Stiles would be with him. Because that's what friends do.

"But can we even trust Derek?" Scott asked, sounding a little whiny actually.

"Weren't you the one who said that you needed to trust each other more?"

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean that-"

"Someone has to take the first step, Scott! And Derek's socially constipated! Be the bigger man. Derek's been badgering you for ages to join and I seriously think that you have to meet him half way here. This is his way of offering to trust you but, honestly, you gotta stop going behind his back for that to work."

Scott gave Stiles a dark look.

"That was once. To save my mom."

Stiles raised his hands.

"Hey, I'm not saying that you did wrong, I'm just saying that you shouldn't do it again."

Scott snorted before glaring out the windshield like a cranky puppy. It was actually kind of adorable and Stiles couldn't help the crooked smile that spread on his lips.

"Hey, come on... Just think about it, okay? I think that it might help. I think that you – with the help of my awesome – would be able to turn that pack into something good. I think that you would feel safer. Like Derek said – you would get help to look after your mom."

Scott seemed to hesitate, then he began to fidget. Stiles narrowed his eyes, pretty certain of what was to come.

"I'm just not sure if-"

"Scott, if the next word out of your mouth is Allison I swear to God that I will punch you. I don't even care how much it will hurt my own hand. I _will_ punch you."

The glare Stiles received was insulted enough to let Stiles know that he had been right. Scott really was predictable sometimes.

"Dude, I'm serious!" Scott exclaimed. "I can't join Derek! She would never forgive me!"

"And none of that will matter if you get yourself killed by the other pack!" Stiles shouted back while giving Scott a reprimanding slap on his shoulder.

Scott actually looked pained, as if he wanted to agree but couldn't. Stiles knew that he was being unfair. It wasn't his choice to make. Scott had the right to make his own decisions, it was just that they were often very stupid ones and Stiles hated that.

"Stiles, man, I just can't. I don't want to lose her."

Stiles was tempted to point out that Scott didn't even have her in the first place but he knew that it would just be his frustration talking. And he didn't want to hurt Scott just because he could. That's not how friendship works. Then again, friends were supposed to listen to each other and Scott was devastatingly bad at that.

"Just think about it, okay? That's all I ask. If I can get over my differences with Derek – because there is a shitload of them, let me tell you that – then you could as well. We need it. We need the stability, Scott."

Stiles could tell that Scott wasn't convinced. Whatever reasons he had not to join – mostly Allison and lingering old grudges apparently – were strong enough to keep him from relenting. He was hesitating though, actually listening to Stiles' words, but he seemed unable to agree.

Scott took a deep breath before he glanced towards Stiles, suddenly very uncertain.

"But you... even if I don't join, you'll stay with me, right?"

Stiles blinked. Had Scott actually been worried that Stiles would abandon him? Stiles snorted.

"Considering the fact that Derek wouldn't have me even if I offered I think it's safe to say that yes, I will stick with you. It might kill me but I'm not going to leave you, Scott. I've invested far too much of my time and effort into your miserable life to give up now." Stiles hoped that his smile wasn't as weak as it felt, or that any of the small cracks could be seen. Scott gave him a funny look, which meant that he probably caught on to something being wrong, but he didn't ask. He just smiled back instead.

"Thanks... that means a lot."

And Stiles knew that. Of course that kind of trust and reliance meant a lot. He just couldn't help wondering why Scott couldn't offer him the same. It was never Scott who was going to stick with Stiles through thick and thin. It was never Scott who had to be at the ready all hours of the day, just in case something happened. It was never Scott who had to put himself in danger despite being very likely to die.

Stiles forcibly pushed those thoughts from his head. Scott gave him a wide, dorky grin before climbing out of the Jeep and waving his goodbyes. Stiles gave a weak, unenthusiastic one back, wrist resting against the steering wheel. He didn't want to question Scott like that but something painful and dark was twisting inside Stiles' chest. A nagging doubt that perhaps Scott took him for granted. That there would come a time when Stiles would have to face the fact that Scott wouldn't be there for him. That he would always remain the useful but unimportant sidekick. Stiles didn't want that. He didn't need glory or fame, he just wanted some recognition – especially from Scott. He kind of deserved that.

When was it going to be Stiles' turn to be Batman?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm beginning to think that I should add Batman to the list of characters appearing in this fic. He's been mentioned quite a few times and it will happen again.
> 
> And please don't hate Scott too much. He's just a teenager in love. And he's gonna get better - I promise you that.
> 
> Also! You're going to get two chapters next week - one on Tuesday and one on Friday - because I'm awesome like that. The next chapter is an interlude, you see, and while it contains important plot points and is a full length chapter in itself it's from Scott's point of view, not Stiles', and I didn't want to take too long a break from him. So two chapters it is!
> 
> Thank you to my beta [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum), who I am running ragged with all of these updates and chapters and words. Poor thing.


	11. Interlude

  


 

* * *

 

Scott wasn't stupid. He knew that he wasn't the brightest nor the sharpest but he wasn't stupid. He knew that Stiles had a point with his arguments to join Derek's pack. He even knew that it might be true that it would be the wisest decision considering their circumstances, but he couldn't help wanting to refuse none the less. For several reasons.

He had enough self-insight to understand that Allison was probably the biggest of them all. Scott wasn't going to fool himself. From the moment that Allison had stepped into his life his priorities had changed. Allison and her well-being would always be one of the key factors that influenced his decisions. Which sometimes resulted in less than stellar choices – he knew that – but he liked to believe that he never made grave enough errors to cause someone suffering. But it was difficult to tell from time to time. It was just that she was everything he could ever want and he didn't want to lose her. Joining Derek would guarantee that he did. But Scott knew that wasn't a reason good enough, at least not in Stiles' eyes.

Scott couldn't quite vocalize why he didn't want to join Derek's pack and he knew that it frustrated Stiles as much as it frustrated himself. Because Scott really wanted to know too. He had been honest when he told Isaac that he didn't know what he was doing half of the time. Not anymore. It had been easy at the beginning, when everything was about protecting people from the bad guys and keeping them from getting hurt, but things had gotten complicated when lies and schemes became the norm. Those weren't Scott's strong suit. Little by little Scott found that he really wasn't sure what was going on anymore or how to handle the situations.

Months after the kanima incident had been resolved he had had some time to gain clarity and view his choices from a distance under less stressful circumstances, but he was still confused. He was still having difficulties deciding what to do.

He always knew what _had_ to be done. He always knew that protecting people and making sure that no one got hurt was his primary objective, but the road to accomplish that goal got hazier and hazier for each disaster that hit. The list of options he was given kept getting shorter and he lost more and more of his direction with each step. This was no exception.

Scott didn't dislike Derek – he might even stretch far enough to say that he, on rare occasions, liked Derek and appreciated his efforts and aid – but Scott didn't trust him. Scott had never been able to understand Derek's way of reasoning or why he made the choices that he made. Scott couldn't see why Derek always seemed to choose the violent method over the peaceful one. Why Derek chose to consider someone guilty until proven innocent, not the other way around. Scott couldn't support that and he couldn't trust Derek.

On his good days, when he wasn't swamped by chaotic emotions, Scott knew that Derek wasn't a bad guy. Scott knew that Derek had bit Allison's mom to save Scott's life, not to cause a rift between Scott and Allison. It was still difficult not to judge him. There was still a part of Scott that just didn't want to acknowledge the fact that Derek might be a secure point in his life – that Derek might be someone to rely on. Scott didn't want to rely on Derek. Scott wanted to handle things on his own. So he might be a little reluctant to submit to Derek just because of that.

It didn't mean that Scott wouldn't cooperate with Derek though, which was why he headed over to the train depot after Deaton had finally let him off work. Like Scott and Stiles had suspected Deaton hadn't been too pleased about Scott's sudden disappearance and had been waiting for him when he got back to the clinic. Exactly how the vet had known that Scott had left in the first place and gone to cover for him was unclear and Scott knew better than to ask. Despite his irresponsible behavior Scott hadn't gotten as much as a reprimand but the calm, judging looks he received instead said it clearly enough.

He didn't bother to be quiet as he stomped down the stairs leading down to the train depot, knowing that the two werewolves there had already heard him coming, just like he had detected their presence. A scowl settled on Scott's face when he reached the bottom of the stairs and saw Peter Hale sitting casually on an overturned crate. Of course Scott knew that Peter was still lurking around Beacon Hills and that he had been one of the werewolves present but that didn't mean that he had to like it.

Scott didn't exactly hold a grudge against the werewolf that had bit him – Peter had proven to be useful despite his unstable mental condition – but he was far from comfortable in Peter's presence. If he found it difficult to trust Derek then it was virtually impossible to trust Peter. There was something with him that even Scott knew was bad news. It was best to just keep his distance when it was possible.

"Scott! What a delight to see you!" Peter said while rising from the crate, arms outstretched as if he was a host greeting guests to an extravagant ballroom. Scott didn't step forward.

"I'm looking for Derek."

"Oh, of course. He's here somewhere, probably doing his best to hide from any situation involving social interaction. He does that a lot. You'll have to excuse my nephew's lack of manners. You would think that he was raised by wolves."

Scott wasn't sure if Peter was joking or not with that pleasant yet serious look on his face so Scott played it safe and remained as expressionless as he possibly could. Peter seemed delighted, in a rather unsettling, serial killer fashion that Scott just knew would keep him up at night.

"So, Scott, how's your mother doing? I never got the chance to talk to her after your friend interrupted the date she and I were supposed to go on," Peter continued casually, as if it was completely natural for him to ask. Scott stiffened before narrowing his eyes.

"That's none of your business."

"Actually, I was meaning to ask you about that..." Peter drawled while sauntering closer. "I want to start over – a fresh new life to go with, well, my fresh new life – and your mother truly is a gorgeous woman. Perhaps I could-"

"Don't come _near_ my mom," Scott growled, hands clenched. He kept tight control over his wolf but there was no mistaking the threat in his voice – unless you were Peter Hale, apparently.

"No need to be so protective, Scott, I have no reason to hurt Melissa now," the older werewolf said easily, the same pleasant smile on his lips. There was something terribly wrong with that smile though, something twisted and dark that Scott knew better than to trust.

"I mean it. Don't come near her. Ever."

It was not the most eloquent of threats but Scott had always been more down to the point. Stiles was the one with the fancy words and phrasings.

"I think that you need to let go of the past, Scott." Peter tilted his head to the side, arms outstretched in a heartfelt gesture that Scott had no intention of acknowledging. "Let bygones be bygones. Yes, I had a momentary lapse of judgment and some people got hurt, but I am much better now. I promise."

"You murdered six people," Scott replied, "that's more than a small lapse of judgment."

"Seven, actually," Peter pointed out, as if it would be in his favor to share the information. "My nurse failed to be of more use to me."

Scott gave the other werewolf a look as if he had gone completely insane – more than had already been established, that was. Scott had no idea how to deal with Peter.

"Just leave my mom out of this," Scott repeated, voice tight and a little wary. He didn't like Peter.

"But I just want to-" Peter didn't have time to finish the sentence before he was interrupted by a third, much harsher, voice.

"Stop it."

Scott turned just in time to see Derek appear from behind one of the train carts. He couldn't help but wonder if Derek had been lurking around just to be able to make such a timed entrance. Scott knew better than to ask though.

The alpha was giving Peter a surprisingly reprimanding glare and the older werewolf raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. Neither Scott nor Derek seemed to put much faith in the sincerity of it though.

"Scott." Derek still kept his gaze on Peter, clearly suspicious, and Scott was actually a little relieved to find that Derek wasn't falling for Peter's polite act either. "What do you want?"

Scott took a deep breath.

"We need to talk about what we're going to do about the other pack."

Derek raised an unimpressed eyebrow and folded his arms over his chest.

"I thought that we already had."

"Yeah, but I've got new information and you were supposed to tell me when we were going to start running the perimeter."

Peter snickered to himself and sat down on the crate again but Scott ignored it. He knew that the oldest werewolf was just trying to bait him and make him react.

"Go ahead," Derek replied with a careless gesture with his hand. Scott didn't feel particularly motivated but decided to explain anyway. Derek needed to know about the new deal with the hunters and no one else was likely to tell him. So Scott did.

Derek remained silent and expressionless during Scott's entire explanation about what had transpired earlier that day, from the new deal with the hunters to Jackson being targeted and Danny's recent introduction to the world of werewolves. Peter, on the other hand, seemed to listen with rapt attention – which made Scott rather uncomfortable. He had no idea how to act around Peter and Derek's lack of reactions wasn't helping. When Scott finished Peter was the first to speak.

"Well, that's good news, I think. About the hunters." He sounded incurably optimistic and had a delighted smile on his lips. Derek gave Peter a cold glare despite the fact that the words hadn't sounded the least bit sarcastic. It was as if Derek expected everything that came out of Peter's mouth to have a hidden, more sinister meaning. Scott was in total agreement.

"So when do we start?" Scott asked.

Derek turned his gaze towards Scott.

"Start with what?"

Scott suppressed his urge to roll his eyes and gestured to his left, trying to indicate the world outside the rusty train depot.

"Running the perimeter of course."

Peter chuckled again and Derek didn't reprimand the former alpha this time. Derek seemed rather pleased, as a matter of fact. Scott felt his hackles rise just a little.

"You'll be patrolling with Isaac, tomorrow evening. So far the attacks have taken place late at night so we'll save our strength by avoiding patrolling during the day," Derek replied after a second or two.

"And the others?"

Derek frowned while Peter perked up, amusement evident in his eyes.

"Erica and Boyd," Scott clarified, slightly surprised to see Derek stiffen. The alpha's jaw clenched but he seemed to force himself to relax in the next second.

"They're not included," the alpha replied evenly, something that seemed to please Peter to no end, judging on the smirk on his face.

So Erica and Boyd had been right. Derek didn't trust them enough to include them in his plans. Scott didn't need Stiles to know that it wouldn't be beneficial for them to have Erica and Boyd sit this one out. He guessed that he could understand Derek's reluctance to trust them but more serious matters were at hand.

"Dude, they should be," Scott said, which earned him a withering glare from the alpha. "We need all the people we can get for this and they want to help. Why not let them?"

Before Derek had the time to answer Peter's lazy drawl echoed in the warehouse.

"It was Stiles' idea, wasn't it?" When faced with Scott's blank look of confusion Peter explained, "That they need to be included. It was Stiles who said that, right? You're noble and all, Scott, but you don't think that far ahead. He always was the smart one. I like Stiles." The last words were said with a small sigh, not far from how an infatuated boy would sound when talking about his crush.

Scott froze and if he hadn't been convinced that he was imagining it he could have sworn that Derek did the same. Peter chuckled softly at Scott's glare.

"Don't give me that look," Peter scoffed. "He's clever. I appreciate that. That's why he was the one I kidnapped when I needed to find Derek. I knew that Stiles would find a way to track Derek despite being human – and he did, after some threats. He can perform small miracles, that one."

Scott stared in surprise. Sure, Stiles had told him that he had dealt with Peter during the night of the winter formal but Scott hadn't known the depths of it. This seemed to amuse Peter immensely.

"Oh, you didn't know about that?" The glee in Peter's voice was obvious. "He did a very good job, despite being under such pressure. He really is reliable. You're a lucky one, Scott, to have that kind of friend. Did you know that I even offered to give him the bite? And he actually declined?" He sounded scandalized, as if the mere thought of someone denying the bite was inconceivable. "Well, he might have been lying when he did that but he did decline."

Scott felt a surge of protectiveness rise within him. He usually trusted Stiles' ability to work his way out of the trouble he faced – because Scott didn't know anyone better at finding solutions to problems, illegal and painful as they might be – but it was another thing to hear Peter talk about his best friend like that. It felt unsettling in a way that Scott couldn't quite describe.

"Leave Stiles out of this," Scott grit out but to his dismay Peter only laughed.

"Scott, innocent, naïve little Scott. Stiles is already as wrapped up in this as you are. He might not be a werewolf but I don't think that his life will ever be normal again." Peter smiled and threw a glance in Derek's direction, who was glowering quite menacingly. "Speaking of that, you should really do something about it, Derek. Stiles would be a great werewolf, wouldn't he? You should give him the bite. He has a lot of potential."

Derek seemed even more furious, if that was even possible, while Scott wanted nothing more than to snarl and bare his fangs.

"No." the alpha growled back.

"Oh come on, Derek. Even you must see that. You're wasting the boy's talents by not embracing him into the pack. He might have said no to me but I'm pretty certain that he might actually consider it if you were the one who offered." Peter's smile only widened when Derek didn't reply. "Well, if you don't want him then can I have him?"

The words were barely out of Peter's mouth before Scott made to lunge at him but Derek was a step ahead of him, surprisingly enough. The alpha grabbed Peter's collar and roughly dragged him to his feet, seemingly without any effort at all.

"Get out of here," Derek spat, voice low and threatening. The alpha didn't seem angry per se but definitely annoyed. "I don't have time for you and your games."

Derek pushed Peter towards the stairs with a little more force and brutality than necessary and the older werewolf stumbled during his first couple of steps. A pleased, teasing grin was on Peter's lips though and Scott was definitely feeling a bit wary about that. Peter straightened his clothes and gave Derek an almost condescending smile.

"Oh Derek. Derek, Derek, Derek... one day you will realize that anger isn't a strength – it's a weakness. It's such an easy emotion to manipulate."

Derek growled wordlessly and Peter raised his hands before taking slow steps backwards. It might have looked like a surrender but it clearly wasn't.

"And I must say that this new inclination of yours will amuse me for weeks to come," Peter drawled with a playful smirk.

Scott's only consolation was that Derek looked about as confused by Peter's words as Scott himself did. The former alpha gave the other two a pointed stare before rolling his eyes and sighing.

"You are such blind children sometimes."

Derek seemed to tire of Peter's insults, his eyes glowing red in the dull light.

"Just get out."

"Already leaving," Peter declared as he placed his foot on the first step of the stairs, but he stayed long enough to throw a glance in Scott's direction. "Give my regards to your mother, Scott. And Stiles, of course."

Derek's answering roar was enough to put some haste into Peter's retreating steps but he seemed far too calm to appear as if he had just been threatened. Perhaps that was what happened when you had already cheated death once.

Scott was a little surprised by Derek's display of anger but he was definitely not sad to see Peter go. Derek's red eyes followed Peter's departure and it was obvious that he alpha made sure that Peter was out of earshot before he turned back to Scott.

Both of them had gotten rather sidetracked by Peter's involvement and Scott took it upon himself to steer the conversation back to the issue at hand, no matter how much Peter's words about Stiles caused an anxious twist in his stomach. Scott knew that he had been a very bad best friend ever since he met Allison and that Stiles had slipped further down on his list of priorities the last couple of weeks. Scott hated himself for it. Stiles deserved better, it was just difficult to spread yourself thin enough to please everyone and Stiles was so good at taking care of himself and others that Scott often forgot that he might need some care as well. It wasn't flattering or noble but it was the truth. Scott had neglected his best friend.

So while Scott might not be able to agree to Stiles' suggestion and join Derek's pack he could at least fix the smaller things. It might be too little too late but Scott wanted to get better.

Scott met Derek's gaze without hesitation and squared his shoulders.

"Give Erica and Boyd another chance. It's Stiles' idea, yes, but I agree with him. We need them and they're honestly not trying to sabotage anything. They fled because they were afraid, Derek. You can't blame them for that."

"They abandoned their pack," Derek replied but he sounded surprisingly calm about it.

"Yeah, and that's bad, I get that... But they didn't know what else to do." Scott took a deep breath. "You have to know what that's like."

Derek seemed tempted to reply with something scathing and insulting but eventually didn't. He did give Scott a rather pissed off frown though. Scott ignored it.

"I wouldn't run."

"That doesn't matter, okay! We just-... give them another chance. They're genuinely sorry. And we can't do this on our own."

The alpha sighed, as if Scott was a particularly annoying, nagging child, before he made a small waving motion with his hand.

"Fine. You will patrol with Erica instead." Derek held up a hand to silence Scott's protest. "If you want them to be in on this we do it on my terms. And that means that they are always paired up with someone else, never each other."

Scott felt like a reprimanded child and if it hadn't been beneath him he would have pouted. Now he just looked offended.

"You don't decide over me," he pointed out, sounding petulant even in his own ears.

"So you keep reminding me. But I do decide over them so either you accept it or you can leave. The door is over there." Derek pointed towards the stairs.

Scott would rather chop off his own arm than admit it out loud but he missed the time when Derek was doing everything to get on Scott's good side. This Derek wasn't very polite. Not that Derek usually was but he normally made an effort to be at least vaguely nice towards Scott. For some reason he wasn't now.

"Fine," Scott bit out, definitely not pleased but he knew better than to argue, at least this once.

Derek gave him a simple nod and thankfully enough didn't rub Scott's surrender in his face.

"She'll come find you when it's time."

Scott almost wanted to ask how she would do that but soon realized that no, he really didn't want to know. It would probably make him unable to sleep at night.

"Anything else?" Derek almost sounded impatient, as if he wanted Scott to leave, which was quite a surprise. Derek usually wanted to squeeze in a speech about pack recruitment first. Before he knew it Scott was voicing his confusion out loud.

"What? You're not going to ask me to join your pack again?"

Derek raised an eyebrow but remained relaxed. Almost suspiciously so.

"Has your answer changed?" the alpha asked, voice dull and bored.

"No."

Derek snorted humorlessly.

"Then why bother?"

"It's very unlike you to give up," Scott said, knowing that he was baiting Derek. He didn't know why exactly but it bothered him a little that Derek wasn't asking. It felt strange. Scott was so used to it by now that it felt unnatural not to hear it as soon as he was in Derek's presence.

Derek gave him a judging stare that clearly stated that the alpha knew what Scott was trying to accomplish – and that Derek wasn't falling for it.

"If you want recognition and attention go to someone else. I'm busy," Derek replied before turning to walk back the way he had come. Scott frowned.

"Busy? With what?"

The alpha looked over his shoulder and rolled his eyes.

"I do have a life."

"You do?" Scott blurted out, genuinely surprised. Derek gave him that look that seemed to ask if Scott had been dropped on his head as a child.

"Yes, you idiot. I do." Derek's expression clearly said that Scott's stupidity was inches from giving him and headache. "You think that I sit here all day, staring at the moldy walls?" Scott opened his mouth to reply but Derek held up a hand before as much as a sound had passed his lips. "You know what? Don't answer that. Just leave. You will patrol with Erica."

Derek turned and continued to walk away and Scott couldn't find a reason to make him stay. It all felt a little odd. Scott didn't want to admit it but it felt like most people he knew were beginning to slip away from him. As if they were changing but he remained the same.

Allison' change was only expected and Scott would never blame her for needing time to mourn her mom. But then there was Stiles. Scott had thought that Stiles would never agree to any situation where they would have to work with Derek. Stiles had always seemed so reluctant towards the alpha and Scott couldn't understand what had made him change his mind. Now Stiles wanted them to unite. Stiles wanted Scott to join Derek's pack. Scott wasn't sure what he felt about that and Derek didn't help matters by breaking out of his pattern too.

Scott didn't know what to do anymore. He didn't want to join Derek's pack but when he tried to justify it to himself he couldn't find as good reasons as he had hoped. The fact that Derek had been the cause for Allison's mom's death didn't hold out when other lives were at stake. Scott didn't want to be the kind of person who spoke of peace and protection when he with his next breath refused to do what he could to ensure those goals. But he knew that he was dangerously close to it right now.

It was hard to admit but he knew that he was being a little too selfish when it came to the pack. It was obvious that he turned to them as soon as he needed help, exactly like Derek had pointed out, but it was such a big decision and Scott felt unprepared. Perhaps even a little afraid. He didn't even know what it all entailed and he was expected to make a life changing choice without all the facts. Granted that he hadn't given Derek much opportunity to explain either but he doubted that Derek would even if Scott asked for it. It was just so confusing, all of it.

Scott really had no idea what was going on and it frustrated him to no end. Scott found himself wishing that Stiles was there to sort everything out. Stiles always knew what to do. So perhaps it was time to start listening to what Stiles said. Perhaps it was time to grow up.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the promised interlude chapter! I actually like Scott even if he's a bit of an idiot. He really wants to help but it's not easy to prioritise when you're just sixteen years old. But he's getting there ;)
> 
> I really enjoy writing Peter. I really, really do. It's a shame I can't fit him into the plot and make him appear more frequently.  
> And NO, I don't think that Stiles should become a werewolf and I don't think Peter does either... he's a bit of bastard, that one. He probably said it just to piss people off.
> 
> My lovely beta, [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum), decided that Peter shall henceforth be known as Peter 'SlasherWolf' Hale after reading this chapter. I have no idea what she means! I promise! I'm innocent!


	12. She-Wolf

  


 

* * *

 

Stiles really needed to have a stern conversation with Scott about early morning phone calls. Two days in a row now Scott had called when he got to work, heedless of the fact that Stiles was a normal teenager during his summer break and thus not that eager to be called back from the dead before midday. Part of Stiles suspected that it was actually a crafty choice by Scott to call that early, just because Stiles was less likely to be sarcastic and smug what with the lack of brain cells and attention.

This morning Scott wanted to relay what had been said between him and Derek the previous evening and while that was all very interesting and important Stiles' state of half sleep made him unable to muster any significant amount of enthusiasm. Still, it was good to know that actions were being taken to ensure the populations' safety and Stiles was even nice enough not to tease Scott about how easily he had gotten Derek to agree to include Erica and Boyd into their little party. Stiles had never really had much doubt about that.

They skirted around the biggest issue that still lay between them – namely whether Scott should join Derek's pack or not – but Stiles could accept that. If he gave Scott some time to think he might realize that there were more benefits than disadvantages to that kind of union. Stiles could wait. He was pretty certain that Scott would come around eventually. Scott might be stubborn but more so than that he was too kind not to see how many people they could protect if they just made an effort.

When Scott eventually hung up Stiles was too awake to go back sleep but far too tired to commit to any kind of task, which resulted in him lazing around in his bed reading comic books for an hour or two. By then his hunger won out over his laziness and he reluctantly dragged himself downstairs, tripping over his lose pajama pants with every second step.

The weather seemed to have shifted over the night so instead of stifling sun there were now dark clouds on the horizon, signaling that a thunderstorm was approaching. Stiles didn't really care either way because he had no plans to leave the house if he could help it. A quick survey of the contents of the fridge told him that his dad had taken the food Stiles had prepared the night before with him to work – which caused a pleased, warm hum in Stiles' chest – and that they would survive without groceries for another day. It was probably best to make a run sometime tomorrow though.

Stiles knew that he often took on more chores than a normal teenager would but he couldn't imagine not doing it. He shuddered at the thought of what would happen to his father if he didn't. Stiles really didn't mind being in charge of the food and sometimes cleaning the house when his dad forgot. Being the sheriff was stressful and Stiles could spare the time. It was still far from how neat the house had looked when his mother was alive but every now and then they managed to make it smell fresh and clean again. Those times had become less frequent ever since the Stiles got involved with werewolves though.

He pushed the thought aside and focused on preparing his breakfast instead. He heard the first rumble of thunder when he sank down in front of the TV and while he knew that it might be foolish to have any kind of appliance turned on during a thunderstorm he just wanted something to watch while he ate. Stiles had a feeling that his carelessness came mostly from having faced worse threats than a burnt out TV. Reckless, yes, but he didn't particularly care.

Once he was done he turned the TV off, headed up to his room and booted up his laptop. It could run on batteries for hours so he settled onto his bed and clattered away. Before he knew it he was researching brutal slaughters of families in Montana. It wasn't that he doubted the hunters and what they had told him about the other pack, he just wanted to know what they were up against and see it for himself.

It didn't take him long to find the headlines from the two gruesome murders. Few details were revealed in the news articles but it was confirmed that the police suspected that some kind of animal was responsible for the attacks. It didn't take a genius to see the similarities between the events in Beacon Hills and Montana. Photos were scarce and Stiles was secretly grateful for that. He didn't need to see the faces of those having been murdered – just reading about it was enough. He continued to browse, just for the sake of keeping himself occupied, his thoughts as erratic as his clicks. He didn't like how the situation was developing. The invading pack seemed as brutal as they were careless. It was as if they didn't give a damn if anyone found out what they really were, which was the complete opposite to Derek's policy, as far as Stiles knew. Regular people weren't supposed to know about werewolves. Stiles sometimes wished that he wasn't one of those who did.

The minutes ticked by while the storm raged outside, rain pattering against the window glass and thunder rumbling across the sky. It was strangely cozy to sit there on his bed, typing away on his computer with nothing but the sound of the rain and the clatter of his keyboard as soundtrack. The hoodie he had pulled on was frayed at the sleeves and worn thin by too many turns in the wash, but it served its purpose to keep the chill from the storm at bay. It wasn't nearly as warm in the house as it had been during the rest of summer.

Stiles was so caught up in his research that he didn't hear his phone chime at first. He reached for it on pure reflex and it took him a moment to actually register the fact that he was holding it, clearly intending to do something with it. He stared down at the screen and the text he had gotten, frowning at the unknown number.

**From: Unknown number  
** _Wanted to thank U for help with D. First patrol tonight. -E_

Stiles tilted his head to the side but it didn't take long before he remembered Scott's call and how he had mentioned that he would patrol with Erica the same evening. Scott hadn't sounded particularly pleased. Probably because he was still a little annoyed with Erica for her sexual advances and now that Allison was technically out of the picture shit might hit the fan, but Stiles figured that Scott had nothing to worry about. Not considering how Erica and Boyd seemed to have grown closer over the last couple of weeks.

**To: Unknown number**  
_Erica?_

It was always best to be completely certain. Stiles had learned that the hard way after Peter's nurse had pulled that stunt with Mrs. McCall's computer at the hospital.

**From: Unknown number**  
_Duh. Who else? ;P_

Stiles couldn't help the amused smile that spread on his lips, until he realized that he had no idea how on Earth she had gotten his number, or why she was texting him in the first place. Well, except to thank him, apparently. He was surprised by her initiative, to put it simply. He still remembered to be polite though and respond to her initial text.

**To: She-Wolf**  
_Scott did all the work tbh. Btw how did U get my number?_

Stiles placed his phone back onto the bed next to him but his attention was only half focused on his work. He typed in another couple of searches and was gnawing rather furiously on one of his pens when his phone chimed again, signaling that Erica had replied. He felt strangely excited to see what she had written, which surprised him as much as it scared him. He should have been wary if anything, considering their history. But then again, she seemed to be reaching out with an olive branch, not threats and violence. And Stiles kind off needed a friend right now.

**From: She-Wolf**  
_Isaac. Scott gave it to him. For emergencies_

Well, that was actually pretty reasonable. Not that Stiles thought that Isaac would ever contact him in case of an emergency but it was good to be prepared, which was why he immediately asked for Boyd and Isaac's numbers in return. If Stiles' plan to unite the pack actually came true it would be good to have means to contact them all. Erica was very forthcoming with the numbers and Stiles wasn't surprised to find that a small smile lingered on his lips when he continued to text with her.

**To: She-Wolf**  
_Thnx for help in the woods btw. I was pretty done for_

Her reply was surprisingly swift.

**From: She-Wolf**  
_No prob. Glad to help_

The fact that Stiles didn't doubt her sincerity said quite a lot about how far they had come since the time when she slapped him in the face with car parts. Not to say that he trusted her completely but he had a feeling that Erica was desperate for someone to give her direction and stability. Both she and Boyd seemed so lost and confused. Stiles wasn't sure if he would be able to be the one who set them straight and make them happy again but he could at least give her some comfort and someone to talk to. She was reaching out and Stiles was honestly incapable of not responding.

So he kept on texting her throughout the day in between his research and making dinner, about mundane and silly things that she clearly didn't care that much about but suffered through none the less. Sometimes she seemed vaguely annoyed, others just amused but the fact still remained – she always replied. Stiles learned more about her through those simple texts than he had during the months he had actually been aware of her existence. It made him feel incredibly guilty. If only he had seen her earlier.

Sure, she might be a slightly different person now when she had more confidence and the werewolf strength to back it up but Stiles refused to believe that the girl underneath all that – the one who sent teasing and joking texts to help him through his boring day – hadn't been there all along. And he hadn't seen it.

Stiles tried to hold it back, he really did, but in the end he had to ask. The question had been nagging at him ever since she had thrown it out in the open, casually yet with such pain in her voice. He needed to know.

**To: She-Wolf**  
_Hey, was it true? Abt U having a crush on me?_

Erica's reply took a little longer that time and Stiles almost feared that she wouldn't answer at all. It was a very rude and personal question after all and they hadn't really broached those kinds of subjects during their conversation, even if it had spanned over an entire day.

The thunderstorm had passed by then but the sky remained clouded and dark, the sun having set behind the trees. It was late and Stiles tried to pretend that he wasn't clinging to Erica's texts partly because his dad hadn't come home yet. The leftovers from dinner were stored away in the fridge and Stiles knew that he could call and ask his dad to come home, but he didn't want to be a bother. Stiles knew that his dad only stayed at the station if his work really demanded it and Stiles being a little needy wasn't reason enough to make him leave.

His phone buzzed and Stiles dropped it twice in his haste to pick it up from where it lay next to him on the bed. The screen glowed brightly in the dully lit room.

**From: She-Wolf**  
_Yeah. I did for years. Kinda passed now tho..._

Stiles tried not to feel a little put out by the fact that Erica wasn't crushing on him anymore but a part of him understood that. He might still be head over heels with Lydia even after so many years but he knew that wasn't healthy. Normal people changed crushes pretty often. Still, a part of Stiles had hoped that she would still be into him, even if it would have been cruel to show interest only when it was obvious that Lydia would never return his feelings. Erica deserved better than that so it was probably for the best that she had gotten over Stiles. He wasn't entirely certain if he was nice enough not to use her feelings just to boost his own ego after Lydia's rejection.

**To: She-Wolf**  
_K. Nice to know someone likes me_

Erica's reply came so fast that he barely had time to put his phone down again.

**From: She-Wolf**  
_Everybody likes U Stiles_

Stiles snorted and shook his head. Erica clearly had no idea what she was talking about. People tolerated Stiles at best and at worst wanted to rip his throat out. Derek could testify to that. Stiles was reliable, sure, but he was pretty certain that the only ones that really liked him was Scott and now Erica. Not even Stiles' dad counted because he was obligated to like him due to their family ties. Stiles was aware of it – that he was generally too much of everything to be liked by normal people – but he was pretty fine with that. He didn't need much more than his dad and Scott anyway.

Before Stiles had time to reply Erica sent him another text.

**From: She-Wolf**  
_Need to go on patrol soon_

Stiles smiled while writing his response. He was a little surprised that Erica talked to him willingly, out of her own accord, but he certainly didn't complain. Scott and he had spent more time together since Gerard had been beaten and Jackson had shed his skin but that didn't mean that Stiles felt any less lonely. Not really. He knew that Scott would have prioritized Allison if she had let him. The only reason that Scott had time for Stiles was because Allison wanted to be alone. If that hadn't been the case Scott would have spent time with her instead and Stiles would have been left without his best friend again. It had been a rather frequent occurrence the last couple of months.

So to have someone's full attention – a gorgeous girl no less, never mind that there wasn't much _there_ – was quite flattering and exactly what Stiles needed.

**To: She-Wolf**  
_Take care of Scott for me, she-wolf. He's flaky and lacks focus_

He raised his arms above his head, stretching as best as he could while still remaining seated and without rolling to the floor. He had stopped researching a while ago and was spending his time with silly online games instead. Any task more complicated than that felt unnecessary.

His phone pinged.

**From: She-Wolf**  
_She-wolf? Better be a compliment_

A barking laugh echoed in the room when Stiles read her reply. He fell back onto the pillow behind him with a wicked grin on his lips.

**To: She-Wolf**  
_Definitely a compliment. It's what I call U on my phone_

Stiles stared up at the ceiling after having hit send, his phone coming to rest against his chest, fingers lax around it. The day had passed quickly and a part of him felt nervous and jittery. There had been no word on the other pack or anything from Scott besides the phone call earlier that morning. Stiles felt strangely isolated, as if he had existed in his own little bubble for the past couple of hours and the only contact he had had with the outside worlds was his texts with Erica. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, he just felt a little off his game. As if he should have done something more productive with his time, but he couldn't exactly pinpoint what.

Lydia was going to talk to Jackson about joining Derek's pack and Scott needed some time to mull over his own decision so there wasn't much Stiles could do. He couldn't help patrolling – nor did he want to – and there wasn't much research to be done. Perhaps he would get more to do soon.

His phone buzzed and he stifled a yawn before looking at the softly glowing screen.

**From: She-Wolf**  
_U want to know what I call U?_

That could either be a really good or really bad idea but Stiles' curiosity won out in the end and he replied that he did indeed want to know. Minutes ticked by without an answer and Stiles couldn't stop himself from frowning a little and glancing at his phone expectantly. He knew that the lack of text probably meant that Erica was busy patrolling with Scott and that he should be patient but he wanted to know. He _needed_ to know. It was like an itch he had to scratch. Stiles always wanted answers – that was why he put his nose where it didn't belong so often.

He loved information. He loved knowledge. He loved being able to understand how things worked and explain why they worked the way they did. He loved solving puzzles and riddles and there was always a huge amount of satisfaction and pride to be had whenever one of his plans came together. It made him feel useful.

Stiles didn't even notice when he began to nod off, his eyelids fluttering close on their own volition. His laptop cast a soft glow over the bed and his haphazardly arranged limbs, everything remaining silent except for the distant tick of the clock downstairs and occasional cars passing by outside. It was no wonder that he dozed off, only to be pulled back when his phone finally chimed again.

He cast a glance on his bedside table, not surprised to see that he had lost about half an hour, and as soon as his eyes adjusted to the screen he read Erica's text. Something in his chest twisted at the word she had written – just one word – and not for the first nor last time did he wonder why it couldn't have been her. It should have been her. But it never would be.

**From: She-Wolf**  
_Batman._

 

 

Stiles had never been this popular in his entire life. The day following his surprising yet very pleasant text conversation with Erica he answered a call at the door only to find Danny, of all people, standing on his porch looking vaguely exasperated but distinctly friendly. Stiles blinked and managed to keep from rubbing his eyes in disbelief only because of his utter shock.

It wasn't that Danny wasn't a nice guy – because he truly was, everyone liked Danny – it was just that Danny had never seemed particularly fond of _Stiles_. Danny tolerated him, sure, like most others, but there was no question what those eye rolls and sighs really meant. So Stiles thought that he was rather justified in his surprise to find Danny at his doorstep.

"Uuh... hi." There was no hiding the hesitation in Stiles' voice and he had to fight an urge to ask Danny if he had ended up at the wrong house. Danny shouldn't be at _Stiles'_. There was probably some law against it, claiming that cool, handsome people like Danny shouldn't come within fifteen feet of Stiles' home.

"Don't get too excited. I only came here because Jackson won't talk to me and Lydia treats me like a specimen she wants to dissect," Danny said with a patient yet slightly quirky smile. "I figured you might have some answers for me."

"Oh. Right. Yeah, I probably do. It's like the only thing I'm good at."

Danny gave him a strange look, as if he couldn't quite understand the words that had come out of Stiles' mouth, but since he had no idea how to interpret that Stiles pushed it aside. He stepped out of the way and gestured for Danny to enter the house.

"Come on in."

Danny did, without hesitation but with a slight hint of curiosity. That really surprised Stiles. He was beginning to suspect that he had somehow ended up in a parallel universe because things were making less and less sense. It made him uneasy. He closed the door behind Danny and began to fidget and squirm, his restlessness becoming quite obvious. It took a moment or two of Danny giving him imploring and slightly impatient glances until Stiles realized that they were still standing by the door like two idiots.

"Living room!" he exclaimed, waving his arms through the air and pointing in direction of the room in question. "Sorry! This way. Yeah, this way..."

Stiles felt like a complete tool when he began leading the way to the living room, staring resolutely at the floor the entire time. It wasn't his fault if interacting with pretty people made him nervous. He was fairly certain that was something that happened to all healthy teenagers.

Once they were seated in the living room, on the same couch but as far away from each other as physically possible, Stiles wasn't any less fidgety. His leg kept bouncing up and down, which earned him a strangely amused glance from Danny, but he managed to keep his hands relatively still. It was strange for Danny to be there when there wasn't some homework to be done since that had always been the only reason for Danny to come over before. Stiles felt out of his element.

"Your dad's at work?" Danny asked and Stiles had to wonder if it was an attempt at small talk or a question to ensure that they were alone in the house.

"Yeah, he's been pulling more and more shifts at the station due to the-... uh... yeah." Stiles knew that Danny was aware of the situation but he wasn't entirely certain if he had had the time to handle all the information yet. Only a day had passed and it was a lot to take in. Judging on the sudden stiffness in Danny's posture he wasn't quite over the shock yet. Danny looked more uncertain than Stiles had ever seen him and that said quite a lot.

Danny, as opposed to Jackson, never belittled others just because he was confident. He carried himself with the air of someone who felt comfortable in his own skin but never seemed to lose sight of what was reasonable and right. Sure, Danny could give Stiles a run for his money when it came to being sarcastic and harsh but Stiles had noticed that it mostly occurred when it was needed. Like keeping Jackson grounded in reality.

It felt odd to see Danny uncertain about anything.

"How are you holding up?" The words were out of Stiles' mouth before he could stop them. Danny smiled weakly.

"Surprisingly well considering the circumstances." Danny took a deep breath. "You've known about this for a long time, haven't you?"

Stiles scratched his neck and gave a tired little chuckle.

"Yeah... ever since Scott got bitten. We've all been through some ups and downs since then."

Danny shook his head softly.

"It's going to take a while before I get used to the thought of Jackson and the others being something else than human."

"Well, it's not like they _stopped_ being humans, they just... got an upgrade or something. Like, leveled up," Stiles tried feebly, but he wasn't even completely sure about that himself. Could they still be defined as humans? He knew that Derek had technically never been one and that definitely showed at times but what about the others? Had the transformation changed their DNA somehow? That would be pretty awesome but Stiles doubted that there were any studies on the subject, even if he would have loved to read them. There was a lot of fascinating revelations to be had.

It was perhaps for the best that Danny continued to talk, thus keeping Stiles from wandering off tangent.

"Still. The change is pretty obvious when you know what to look for."

"Really? Jackson always seemed to be on steroids to me." Stiles grimaced. "He's going to be even better at lacrosse now, isn't he?"

That was so unfair. Jackson had been good even before the change and almost kept up with a werewolf for crying out loud, and now he was one himself? Stiles shuddered at the thought. He would keep in mind to stay out of Jackson's way during practice. Bones would probably break otherwise.

"I guess..." Danny didn't seem to share Stiles' fears, probably on account of being Jackson's best friend and therefore rather safe from maiming and murder. "I'm more worried about all the other aspects."

Stiles took a deep breath.

"Yeah, there are some disadvantages involved. But hey! As long as Jackson doesn't try to kill you I think that you can consider yourself lucky!"

Stiles fired off a smile he hoped was comforting but judging on Danny's disbelieving stare he didn't quite manage. Damn it.

"... Scott did that?"

The breath he had intended to take got caught in Stiles' throat. He faltered, not quite sure what to reply, which in itself was answer enough. Stiles looked down at his hands which had somehow ended up twinning a lose thread from his t-shirt around one of his fingers. He hadn't even noticed. His hands had a life of their own sometimes.

"Yeah, but he never actually hurt me." He shrugged, playing it off as less of a big deal than it was. It wasn't as if he was freaked out over it though. There had been a time when he was scared of Scott and what he might do, sure, but that was ages ago. Scott wouldn't hurt him now. That was all that mattered.

Danny seemed to consider this for a while, his eyes staring thoughtfully at nothing in particular. Stiles let him be and filled his time with some fidgeting instead. He was good at that. He still didn't know exactly why Danny was there in the first place and it made him nervous.

"How do you do it?"

Danny's question caught Stiles off guard and he had to blink stupidly before truly understanding the words that had been spoken.

"Do what?" Stiles frowned.

"Be human amongst a group of werewolves." Danny looked calm and collected but his voice held a slightly urging tone, as if the answer would somehow be vital to his continued existence. That didn't help with Stiles' fidgeting. At all. He cleared his throat and rubbed his palms against his thighs.

"It's pretty easy to be honest. You're reminded of it like, all the time, so it's not like I can forget that I am less than them."

"That's not what I meant." Danny sounded almost reprimanding now and Stiles raised an eyebrow. "I meant how you've managed not to get eviscerated."

"My wolf whispering powers," Stiles deadpanned, but he gave a more serious reply at Danny's reproaching look. "Equal amounts of sheer dumb luck and strategic retreats."

Danny huffed out a laugh.

"So basically running and hoping for the best?"

"You're getting a hang of this," Stiles replied with a grin. There was of course a lot more to it but Stiles wasn't entirely certain how to explain it. He was certain of one thing though. "You'll do much better than me, that's for sure."

Danny had relaxed by then, looking not pleased perhaps but noticeably less guarded and tense. Perhaps talking to another human who knew about werewolves really did help.

"Oh?"

Stiles nodded sagely while pressing his fingertips together in front of him, elbows supported against his knees. It was a rather impeccable impersonation of Mr. Burns, if he dare say so himself.

"Oh yes. You know me and my inability to keep my mouth shut?"

"I've had the misfortune of experiencing that first hand, yes."

Stiles gave Danny an insulted scowl and the middle finger but it was clearly ineffective.

"Anyway, that little habit of mine doesn't exactly earn me many points with any of the werewolves – except Scott because he's awesome like that and has an actually has a sense of humor. Derek, on the other hand, has made more threats to my life than the actual bad guys have. I think that he just doesn't like me very much."

"Derek's the alpha, right?"

Stiles nodded before leaning back against the couch cushions.

"He's not very good at it but he's the assumed leader of the Beacon Hills area. It's just that Scott refuses to join and so does Jackson."

Danny rolled his eyes.

"I have no trouble believing that. Jackson has never been particularly interested in team work."

That made Stiles perk up. Danny should offend Jackson more often because he if anyone had the facts to back it up and that really was the best kind of insults. He suspected that Danny wouldn't take kindly to a request to talk shit about his best friend though so Stiles kept it to himself.

"There are some redeeming circumstances but yeah, Jackson's a dick."

Danny didn't seem inclined to disagree and Stiles found himself pleasantly surprised. Not even Danny could deny that Jackson was less than kind.

"So! You had some questions?" Stiles was getting back into his groove now, jumping at an opportunity to blabber away about subjects that fascinated him. If Danny wanted information on werewolves Stiles was definitely the right person to go to. Or, well, Derek and Peter probably had more knowledge to share but Derek was extremely tight-lipped and Peter was just scary as fuck. Neither of them were good options, in other words.

Danny nodded and Stiles clapped his hands together before rubbing them expectantly.

"Great! So what do you want to know?"

Danny rolled his eyes with a patient smile but started asking his questions. Like Lydia he seemed more interested in the practical aspects, like what happened during a full moon, what signs he had to look out for and what the dangers were. Stiles explained as well as he could and Danny kept him on track with cutting looks and a sharp reprimand here and there. Stiles was pretty famous for letting his mind and words wander, after all.

It didn't take long before Stiles was thrumming with excitement, his hands gesturing wildly while a stream of breathless words fell from his lips. Part of it was the attention – Stiles had to admit that – but more so than that he liked to share what he knew. There was so much knowledge bottled up inside him that when the floodgates finally opened it was difficult to stay the torrent. Danny handled it with admirable cool and redirected him whenever Stiles veered too far from the actual subject. Perhaps Danny sensed that Stiles needed someone to talk to as well.

They weren't friends – not even close – but they did have a lot in common what with their best friends being werewolves and them being humans pulled into the general clusterfuck that surrounded them. They might not have much to talk about on a personal level but they did have a lot to share on a practical one. So Stiles kept talking.

This together with the conversation he had had with Erica easily ranked as two of his top five favorite moments of the past month or so. Because he got to be himself, without being worried of disappointing or insulting someone, or losing his best friend for that matter. It just was. Stiles almost felt like his old self again and that feeling was worth a lot.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally broship Erica and Stiles. I can't help it. And there's gonna be quite a bit of it before this is over. I just feel that both Stiles and Erica needs an extra friend every now and then and they do have adorable chemistry. So this is me making them bros.
> 
> You might also want to brace yourself from now on, lovelies, because after the next chapter things are going to get a bit emotional (and not of the slashing kind, sorry). Consider this the calm before the storm. Just a fair warning.
> 
> I also want to mention that it's a shame that you can't read all the awesome comments [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum) gives me when she corrects the chapters. Half of the time I'm cracking up over the things she says and forget to make the actual changes. The best one for this chapter:
> 
> "101 Signs of Pack Mom - No. 22: You collect all the numbers of your babies"
> 
> If you have any questions you can find me over at my [Tumblr](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/)  
> See you next week!


	13. Watchdog

  


 

* * *

 

After Stiles had eventually talked himself hoarse and Danny literally told him to shut up so that he might keep what small amount of sanity he had left, Stiles offered Danny a ride home. Stiles had groceries that he needed to buy and a tank that needed refilling anyway so it wouldn't be too much of a hassle to drive Danny home first. It only took a minor amount of coaxing before Danny agreed and Stiles had a sneaking suspicion that the reluctance had more to do with the state of his Jeep than politeness. Stiles was beginning to feel really insulted on his car's behalf.

The ride to Danny's house was spent in silence only because Danny kept giving Stiles sharp glares whenever he opened his mouth to fill the space between them with some mindless chatter. Danny had apparently heard enough of Stiles' voice for one day. It was late by then, the sun having begun to set, but Stiles was pretty certain that he would have time to run his errands and get dinner done before his dad came home.

Stiles had texted his dad just before Danny and he left the house, demanding that they eat an actual dinner together that evening. It was both because Stiles wanted to make sure that his dad was eating right but even more so because he had seen so little of him these past few days. Stiles understood if things were hectic at the station considering the new murders but he wanted more than a few minutes here and there to make sure that his dad was okay. Stiles knew that he might regret that decision as soon as it came to the point where he had to lie again – because he inevitably would considering that Stiles was already chest deep in this mess – but right now he just wanted to see his dad. So bad.

He had also texted Scott to see if he was up for some mindless movie watching that night but Scott had declined with a series of apologies and promises to do it some other time. Allison had apparently decided that it was okay to try and be friends even if being together was still out of the question. Scott must have jumped on the opportunity to spend some time with Allison, no matter on what basis. Stiles could understand that and he didn't hold it against him either, but that didn't stop the sharp sting of dread that had cut through him when he read Scott's text. Stiles was going to lose Scott again. Or at least that was his initial reaction. But he forced himself to keep a level head and not jump to conclusions. Perhaps it would only be one or two nights a week. Stiles could share. As long as he got some time with Scott he would be okay with it.

Stiles dropped Danny off with a small wave and a wide smile – something that Danny returned albeit with more dignity – and Stiles actually felt pretty good about himself. Danny seemed to be much more at ease now than when he had arrived on Stiles' porch and while that wasn't a big accomplishment in the whole scheme of things it still meant something to Stiles. He liked helping people. The satisfaction he felt was almost unrivalled.

He hummed along with the song playing on his radio while driving towards the store and he almost missed the ping signaling that he had received a text. He was in the middle of the chorus when he finally managed to pull his phone out from his pocket and glance at the screen, trying to keep most of his attention on the road. A smile spread on his lips when he saw that it was from Erica. He had never thought that it would be an actual reaction of his – to feel such enthusiasm over anything Erica did – but he was in high spirits and his view of her had changed dramatically during their text conversation the previous day.

**From: She-Wolf**  
_B and D out patrolling. Stay safe_

Stiles made the responsible decision to wait with his reply until he was parked in front of the grocery store. Darkness was falling around him but the bright lights of the parking lot made Stiles felt pretty darn safe already. The werewolves weren't likely to venture that far into town.

**To: She-Wolf**  
_I'm more afraid of Derek than the other pack. Is that normal?_

It was mostly a joke and Stiles suspected that Erica knew him well enough to see that as well. He had the time to climb out of the Jeep and step inside the store before he received a reply.

**From: She-Wolf**  
_For U it is. He will punch U eventually_

Stiles had to admit that Derek had shown a surprising amount of patience and restraint when it came to Stiles. Most people would have fulfilled their promise to kill him for all the times he had been disrespectful and just plain rude but Derek refrained. Stiles knew that it wasn't because Derek hadn't meant the threats, oh no, he was pretty certain that Derek was fully capable of doing exactly what he had threatened to do. It wasn't as if Derek was foreign to the concept of causing pain to get what he wanted after all, but apart from slamming Stiles up against a door or the Jeep's steering wheel he hadn't done much. At least not compared to what the werewolves had to suffer through.

It suddenly struck Stiles that Derek seemed strangely mindful of the fact that Stiles was human and therefore frailer than the rest of them, and that he adjusted his means of punishment accordingly. Sure, getting his head slammed into a steering wheel had hurt but as far as Stiles had heard disciplinary actions for the wolves usually involved broken bones. Derek was actually trying to be considerate, in his own, not very socially acceptable yet strangely sincere, way. The thought itself was so absurd that it made Stiles halt in the middle of the diary isle.

He shook his head and looked back to his phone, absently typing out a reply to Erica's text.

**To: She-Wolf**  
_That or eat me_

Stiles was putting his money on the latter. It just seemed to be more in line with Derek's previous threats and general behavior.

He strolled along the aisles, adding things to his cart as he went, mindful of the salt and cholesterol levels. His fingers drummed against the handle bar of the cart while he hummed some random tune under his breath. Always in motion and never silent. That was his motto.

He momentarily forgot to reply to Erica's texts as he went about shopping but since their conversation hadn't been urgent he didn't feel particularly guilty when he finally did remember. She seemed just about as bored as he was and they shared some playful jibes while he waited in line. When the groceries were securely stashed in his Jeep he told her to shove off because he needed his hands for driving, to which she responded something entirely inappropriate about his hands and where she wouldn't mind him putting them. It wasn't flirting – or at least Stiles was pretty certain that it wasn't flirting – but it was flattering none the less. The fact that he blushed like a virgin, well, that was only for him to know.

He drove to the gas station with a dorky smile on his lips and not even the prospect of spending precious money on expensive gas kept him from bobbing his head to the music. Being the private chauffeur for a bunch of werewolves wasn't cheap but Stiles welcomed any way he could make himself useful. Perhaps they were less likely to abandon him if he actually had something concrete to offer. He was considering asking them for tip money though. It would only be fair.

Stiles pulled up to the gas station and left the radio on when he got out to fill his tank, performing ridiculous dance moves to the music. The streets surrounding the gas station were deserted but the lights were on in the food mart, even if Stiles couldn't see anyone manning the cash register. He didn't think much of it and just continued with his business, filling up his tank.

He was shutting the tank cap when he heard a noise that made him stiffen. It could have been anything between the wind rustling the trees, a stray cat or murderous werewolves coming to eat him. A nervous tingle traveled down his spine. He felt as if he was being watched. The sky was dark and clouded, leaving the streetlight and those of the gas station as his only source of illumination. He waited breathlessly for a couple of moments but couldn't hear or see anything out of the ordinary. Stiles swallowed and filed it away as his own wild imagination. The music was making most other sounds indistinguishable anyway.

He glanced towards the food mart, incredibly relieved to see that a bored looking man was now leaning against the counter, probably reading a magazine spread out on top of it. The mere presence of another human being made Stiles infinitely less worried. He took a deep breath, shook his head at his own silly fears and headed back towards the front of the Jeep. He was just on his way to scramble inside when he heard the noise again, even above his music and closer this time.

His hands fumbled with the buttons to the radio, quickly shutting it off while balancing precariously on the edge of the driver's seat, half outside, half inside the car. He held his breath, waiting. Had he been a werewolf he would probably have heard anything that tried to sneak close but now he could do nothing but sit there like a fool, straining to catch any errant sound. He had almost begun to relax when the crack of a breaking twig made him jump in his seat. His eyes scanned the sparsely scattered trees lining the edge of the parking lot but he saw no movement, even if he was certain that it had been the origin of the sound.

After a deep, shaking breath he carefully climbed out of the Jeep once more. He knew better than to walk closer to the tree line but he deemed it safe enough to stop next to the hood of his Jeep, still somewhat shielded should something come bursting from the shadows. His hand gripped his phone, buried deep in his pocket, but he wasn't entirely sure if Scott would notice if he texted or called him about an emergency. He was with Allison after all and had developed a habit of shutting his phone off to be alone with her. Stiles tried to ignore the bitter taste that thought left on his tongue. Scott probably wasn't going to answer.

Stiles licked his lips and glanced towards the clerk inside the store. The man seemed wholly uninterested in anything but his magazine and Stiles wasn't certain if that was a blessing or not. He hoped that he would get some sort of reaction from the man if he started screaming though. It might very well come to that.

Another rustle brought his attention back to the darkness surrounding the trees ahead and there was no denying that it came from something or someone moving in the undergrowth. Stiles' grip around his phone tightened.

"Derek?"

It was a possibility, after all. Erica had said that Derek and Boyd were out patrolling and it was likely for Derek – the creep – to stay hidden in the shadows, just watching. Why he would be watching Stiles at a gas station was another question and one that Stiles rather not find an answer to. Still, he would pick Derek over murderous werewolves any day. Well, murderous werewolves he didn't _know_ , in other words.

The low growl that answered him didn't sound familiar and Stiles' heart was in his throat in the blink of an eye. He recoiled backwards, away from the sound, but another rustle, fast paced, as if someone was running at the edge of his field of vision, caused him to hesitate. He pressed closer to the Jeep, as if the metal frame would offer some kind of protection from the werewolves lurking about. His heart was thudding loudly in his chest but even if he was panicking he felt strangely in control. He inched towards the half open door behind him, knowing that if he just got inside he would be able to peel out of the gas station and to safety within a matter of seconds.

He glanced around, hearing another set of footfalls while growls and feral barks began echoing between the trees. They were circling the gas station. His escape routes weren't completely cut off because they seemed reluctant to step out onto the open street but depending on how fast they were he might be in trouble.

As if to prove him right he soon caught the sight of glowing, golden eyes, barely hidden by the shadows ahead. Stiles found himself relieved that they weren't crimson. Betas were easier to handle than alphas. He desperately tried to remember if he had anything resembling a weapon in his Jeep but he doubted that they would be repelled by asparaguses. And there wasn't time to call for help. No one would be able to get there in time. Stiles' mind worked through countless scenarios and possible tactics with lightning speed but in the end he realized that cunning probably wasn't going to help him. It was better just make a break for it.

That became increasingly obvious when a vaguely humanoid shape finally emerged from the tree line, glowing eyes intent on Stiles and his Jeep. Stiles could see another approach from the side and he sucked in a deep breath, prepared to dive for the half open car door and the relative safety he would find there. But he never got that far.

Stiles barely had the time to see how another large shape – seemingly coming out of nowhere – lunged at the first, both of them tumbling to the ground, before Stiles himself was yanked back towards the Jeep. In his disorientation Stiles didn't put up much of a fight but it turned out that he didn't have to when a firm, warm hand landed on his chest and pushed him back against the side of his car. Stiles' breath stuttered but he could admit that he was very happy to see Derek in that moment. He hunched lower, accepting Derek's wordless command to stay put and tried to make himself a smaller target on pure reflex.

Stiles looked to the side, seeing Boyd caught up in a rough scuffle with another werewolf but no one else attacked, probably because of Derek's arrival. Stiles couldn't be sure how many other werewolves there were but he would guess two or three at the most and they must know better than to attack an alpha and one of his betas.

Derek stayed with Stiles, surprisingly enough, his eyes scanning the surrounding as if daring anyone to approach, but his face remained human. Stiles assumed that was because they, unlike Boyd and the other werewolf, were in the direct eyesight of the clerk at the counter – who so far seemed completely unaware of what was happening outside but might throw a glance in their direction any minute now. Stiles held his breath, gaze flickering between Derek – whose expression was grim as he continued to watch the surroundings – and the fight between Boyd and the other werewolf. Derek was either completely confident that Boyd would win or careless about whatever danger his beta was in because the alpha didn't as much as glance towards the fight. Stiles suspected that it was the former. Boyd always had been the reliable one.

Still, Stiles was just about to ask whether Boyd would be alright on his own when a pained yip followed by a growling bark signaled the departure of the unknown werewolf. Stiles couldn't see much from where he stood but there was a distinct limp to Boyd's step when he made his way towards them after making sure that no threats lingered about. If it wasn't for the fact that werewolves were notoriously resilient Stiles would have been quite worried about Boyd's health. Derek's hand was still resting against Stiles' chest, a warm weight pushing against his fluttering heartbeat. Stiles tried not to think about it.

"They're gone," Boyd announced when he came close enough to avoid shouting and Stiles suspected that it was in favor of Stiles that he even said the words. Derek probably knew just as well as Boyd whether there were any other werewolves left or not.

Stiles released a trembling breath, trying to ignore how Derek's hand moved with his ribcage. Boyd looked a little worse for wear but in relatively good shape considering what he had just been through. There were no open wounds or broken bones as far as Stiles could see even if there were smears of blood. The other teen gave Stiles a nod and he replied with a shaky smile.

"What happened?" Derek asked, meeting Stiles' gaze with surprising earnest. Derek usually only did that when he wanted to scare him but there was no menace in his eyes now.

Stiles swallowed and would have shrugged if it wasn't for the fact that Derek's palm against his chest made him reluctant to move in any way. He couldn't quite explain why. It was very warm.

"I was just filling up some gas when they appeared." Stiles gestured vaguely towards the pumps and his Jeep, letting his shoulders slump, just a little. He couldn't help wondering if Derek felt his heartbeat against his hand and what he would make of the stuttering beats. "I didn't think that they would come this close to town..."

"It might be because he smells of Scott," Boyd suggested quietly, words clearly directed towards Derek, who nodded once after a moment of contemplation. Stiles looked between the two.

"I smell like Scott?"

"Of him," Derek corrected. "His scent lingers on you and that must have drawn them to you."

"Why? To use me to get to Scott? As bait?"

Derek looked away for a second, as if he wasn't particularly certain if he wanted to give an actual answer, but there was a sharp nod eventually.

"That or kill you just to upset him."

"Geez... that's nice," Stiles mumbled. His fingers came to rest against the back of Derek's hand in a wordless urge to make him lower it. Stiles' heartbeat refused to calm down and he was beginning to suspect that Derek proximity was partly to blame. Any and all indecent implications that could be drawn from that would be ignored.

Stiles didn't even have to push. Derek pulled his hand back swiftly enough with a stunned look of surprise on his face, as if he hadn't been quite aware of it himself. Stiles chose to ignore that too.

A distant thought pointed out that this was the second time he had touched Derek's bare skin outside of a life threatening situation. For some reason that made his fingertips tingle and Stiles had to bite the inside of his cheek to make himself remain with the present. It wasn't relevant to know how many times he had touched Derek.

"You should go home," Derek said, voice gruff as he took a step back, as if he only then realized that he had lingered closer to Stiles than he usually did without also threatening to kill him. Stiles tried not to read _anything_ into that, negative or positive. The alpha fixed him with a stern glare. "And stay home."

Stiles instinctive reaction was to object because Derek wasn't the boss of him but he knew how childish that would be. Mostly because he was heading home anyway and honestly didn't want to get caught in any more werewolf business if he could help it. He wasn't going to promise anything for the following nights though. Stiles had a way of finding trouble.

"Relax. I'm going home to fix dinner for me and my dad," Stiles replied, palms up, trying to give off an air of innocence. He wasn't particularly successful if Derek's way of pressing his lips together into a thin line was anything to go by. Stiles found that it was probably high time to divert the attention away from himself and onto someone else. "Hey Boyd."

The werewolf in question would probably have twitched at the sudden attention if he was anyone else, but now he just gave Stiles a slow blink and a questioning look. Boyd really was difficult to read sometimes.

"Me and Scott are planning to practice some lacrosse over the summer. You're going to try out for the team officially next year, right? You wanna join in?"

The question seemed to take Boyd off guard but beneath the surprise Stiles could see budding excitement and joy. It was a known fact that it was his lack of friends that had made Boyd turn to Derek in the first place and Stiles really couldn't understand why no one had wanted to spend time with him. Sure, Boyd was a little imposing with his size and silent demeanor but he wasn't rude or anything. It was a shame really. Boyd deserved friends.

"Sure," Boyd replied with a rare, sincere smile. Stiles just had to grin back.

"Great! Erica already gave me your number so I'll let you know when we're up, okay?"

Boyd nodded his assent while Derek rolled his eyes.

"Really? Lacrosse? At a time like this?" Derek didn't sound angry though, just disapproving, as if he was dealing with two juvenile boys and really – he _was_. Which was also why Stiles didn't feel particularly interested in showing any kind of regret. He nudged Derek with his elbow, ignoring the sharp glare that earned him.

"Lighten up, Sourwolf."

Instead of protesting verbally against the nickname Derek gave Stiles that murderous look he usually resorted to whenever Stiles was being particularly infuriating. It might have caused a small blip in his heart rhythm but aside from that Stiles was blessedly unaffected. Derek wasn't going to hurt him. The alpha seemed to grit his teeth but left it at that.

"We should get going," Derek said while nodding towards the tree line. "If they're this close to town they might try something. We better follow."

Boyd took that for the obvious order that it was and began walking in the direction that Derek had indicated, limp completely gone by then. Werewolf healing really was a fascinating thing. He offered Stiles a simple nod of goodbye which Stiles responded to with one of his own.

"You." Stiles snapped to attention at Derek's harsh tone. He met the alpha's gaze, trying not to squirm under its intensity. "Go home. It's not safe to be out tonight."

Stiles rolled his eyes but was secretly a little flattered that Derek seemed genuinely concerned. Never mind that it was probably only due to Stiles' connection to Scott. It was still nice to know.

"Ugh. Yes, you silly alpha. I'm going home," Stiles replied but there was a ghost of a smile on his lips. "My dad's probably going to be home soon anyway."

Derek lingered for a moment, either to gauge the truth in Stiles' words or weighting the pros and cons of saying something else, but in the end he just gave a quick, confirming nod before he turned and headed towards Boyd who stood waiting at the edge of the trees. Stiles watched them get swallowed by the shadows and he suppressed a sigh while he slumped back against his Jeep, giving himself a moment to catch his breath.

He stared ahead, at the clerk still slumped over the counter inside the food mart – as if there hadn't been a werewolf brawl just outside – and a crooked smile spread on Stiles' lips. Some people really were ignorant and blind. Then again, it was for the best. They didn't need any eye witnesses.

Stiles pushed off from the Jeep and slowly made his way into the driver's seat, opting to leave the radio turned off this time. His hands were steady when he gripped the steering wheel and turned the key in the ignition. He was pulling out from the gas station in no time and headed home. He briefly considered letting Scott know what had happened but his best friend was probably still busy with Allison so it was better to wait until tomorrow. It wasn't like Stiles had actually gotten hurt anyway.

He felt strangely calm as he drove along the nearly deserted streets. But that didn't mean that he wasn't worried. He forced himself to place his trust in Derek and Boyd though, even if he also made a mental note to urge his dad to be careful when he headed back to the station again. Werewolves were on the prowl tonight.

 

 

Stiles woke with a start, feeling groggy and disoriented while blearily trying to check the time on his alarm clock. It was just after half past six in the morning and Stiles couldn't for the life of him understand why he was awake.

After having shared a cozy but slightly tense dinner together with his dad Stiles had spent far too many hours playing World of Warcraft before falling to bed so late that it could almost be considered early. He couldn't have gotten more than one and a half hours of sleep. He wrinkled his nose and buried his face deeper into his pillow, fully prepared to doze off again.

That's when he heard it. A distant but urgent knock on the door, followed by a rather jittery series of chimes from the door bell.

He raised his head slowly, blinking owlishly while trying to comprehend how he was supposed to react to the noise that kept disturbing his sleep. Slowly, as if in a daze, he crawled out of his bed and stumbled towards his bedroom door, eventually finding his way downstairs.

His dad was either still at the station or sleeping like the dead, which Stiles would have total understanding for considering how hard he had worked himself the last couple of days. Stiles had been worried last night, when he had seen the tired lines on his dad's face and the bruises under his eyes, but Stiles hadn't been able to offer much else than a hug and a plea for his dad to be careful.

Stiles almost tripped over the rug on his way to the door, heedless of his own state of disarray. He was wearing some kind of shorts and a t-shirt, that much he knew, but whether they were on right was another question. But at least he was dressed. Opening the door butt naked probably wouldn't be appreciated, no matter the hour. He yawned while unlocking the door, trying to keep himself upright despite his sleep deprived state.

"Yeah, yeah, hang on..." he mumbled when there was another series of knocks and he couldn't help giving a triumphant little noise when he finally managed to flick the lock and open the door. The moment he did he wished that he hadn't.

He went from half asleep to wide awake in an instant, his body stiffening as he stared at the man that stood on the porch. Stiles stopped breathing and his fingers clenched around the door handle until his knuckles cracked. He didn't even have to see the look on Deputy Johnson's face to know what it was about. A cold, sick rush traveled through Stiles, leaving him faint, trembling and completely numb. He was staring helplessly at Deputy Johnson, swaying on his feet as if he was inches from collapsing, silently repeating to himself that it couldn't be true. It couldn't be happening. The pained look on Johnson's face told Stiles that he wasn't whispering his terrified mantra as quietly as he had thought.

"Stiles..."

Stiles barely heard Deputy Johnson's soft, sympathetic voice over the ringing in his ears – over the fear and the suffocating panic – and he definitely didn't feel the supporting hand that gripped his arm. He was aware of it only because he saw Johnson reach out and grab him. He couldn't feel a thing. His vision was clouding over and that high pitched ringing just wouldn't stop. Stiles sucked in a gasping breath and didn't even have to look at Deputy Johnson's face to understand the severity of the next couple of words that were spoken. They were absolutely terrifying even on their own.

"Stiles, it's your dad."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... yes, I went there. But before you bring out your pitchforks to inflict stabby death on me I want to remind you that if I had the intention of killing anyone from the cast I would have given the appropriate warnings and tagged it accordingly. No one is going to die here. But that doesn't mean that it's going to be easy either. As said - brace yourselves, my lovelies, because shit just got real.
> 
> Thank you to my lovely beta [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum)  
> Now enjoy the cliff hanger! *ugly cackling laughter*


	14. White Noise

  


 

* * *

 

Stiles couldn't remember the ride over to the hospital nor the details concerning his father's condition. He knew that he should have listened – that the information was vital – but as soon as Deputy Johnson had explained that Stiles' dad was alive everything else became secondary. His dad was alive. He was at the hospital but he was alive. Stiles clung to those words like a drowning man while staring aimlessly out through the windshield.

Johnson was kind enough to open the car door for him, mostly because Stiles hadn't even noticed that they had arrived and therefore hadn't made any effort to do so himself. He moved as if through a fog, blindly climbing out of the cruiser with a bitter taste on his tongue and the insistent ringing in his ears. He could tell that he was trembling but he didn't know if it was because he was cold or something else. His chest ached. It was as if something heavy was resting on top of it, compressing his ribs and squeezing his lungs until he couldn't get enough air to breathe.

It was when they were nearing the front entrance that the panic came back, putting some urgency into Stiles' steps again. He needed to see his dad. Deputy Johnson gave a startled shout when Stiles suddenly took off, running for the hospital as if his life depended on it. The pressure in his chest wouldn't ease.

Stiles burst into the waiting room, looking around for anything that might indicate where he would find his father. His numb fingers gripped the sleeve of another deputy who seemed to be waiting for news but Stiles couldn't for the life of him remember her name. He choked on his words, voice cracking and hoarse when he finally managed to squeeze out the question he so desperately needed an answer to.

"Where-... my dad?"

The deputy looked pained, her hand covering his, as if to offer him comfort, but he honestly felt nothing of it. Before she had time to answer another voice rang out, blessedly familiar.

"Stiles."

He turned towards Mrs. McCall, blinking away the haze he eventually realized had to be tears. She looked worried but firm, clearly more adept at handling panicking relatives. But Stiles knew that it was different this time, even for her. It was Stiles. It was her son's best friend who had spent the night more times than anyone bothered to count, who had shared many early breakfasts at the McCall kitchen table and slouched in their couch as if he belonged there. He could read the sorrow in her eyes – the sorrow he wouldn't allow himself feel – and she didn't even object when he threw himself at her, clinging to her as if she was a life line. At that point she was.

"H-how is he?" he stuttered, out of breath as if he had run a marathon.

"He's stable. Severely wounded but stable," Mrs. McCall replied. "He's going to be fine, Stiles."

As if the words weren't enough to make everything come crashing down on him the way Mrs. McCall caressed his cheek certainly sealed the deal. Stiles hadn't experienced that kind of maternal care in years. Not since his mom died. Just like his dad could have died.

His breath hitched and he was tipping forward before he knew it, slumping against Mrs. McCall so rudely that he knew that he would have to apologize for it later. She took the weight admirably well however and something within Stiles broke when she wrapped her arms around him, hushing him softly. She didn't quite smell like his own mom but it was close enough to wrench a dry sob out of him. The panic unfurled in his chest, blasting out at full strength.

His breathing picked up, uncontrollable and untamed, wheezing in and out of his throat as the first couple of tears began trickling down his cheeks. He recognized the panic attack for what it was but he was helpless to stop it. His limbs felt locked in place, mind utterly blank while he struggled for control over his own body. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. Everything circled around that fear – the hideous, crushing fear of losing his dad. He had been so afraid.

It was Mrs. McCall who eventually managed to get him to sit down on one of the uncomfortable waiting chairs, keeping a cool grounding hand at the back of his neck while she tried to soothe him. He had either closed his eyes or blacked out completely because he saw nothing but darkness as he struggled for air, the pressure on his chest just heightening his sense of panic. He kept gasping for breath, the sound of his blood rushing in his ear drowning out anything that Mrs. McCall might be telling him. He was pretty certain that he was whimpering. He tried so desperately to breathe.

He didn't know how long it took for the attack to fade or for his breathing to settle down but Mrs. McCall was still at his side when it did, sitting in the chair next to him. Her smile was soft and caring in a way that he had never really seen her direct towards him before. It wasn't that he doubted that she cared about him – he knew that she did – but she showed it in other ways than motherly smiles and gentle touches. It was as if she could sense that Stiles would react badly to it, just because it reminded him a little too much of his own mom. Now was different though. He needed it, no matter how much it hurt, and he suspected that she did too. She had to be almost as worried as Stiles was.

She stroked his short hair, eyes a little glassy and pinched, as if she was holding back tears of her own. Stiles cleared his throat and made a move to grab the sleeve of his t-shirt to wipe the remnants of tears from his face but Mrs. McCall handed him tissues before he even came half way. Where she had gotten them from was probably one of those mysteries that would never be solved – one of those super powers that all mothers had. He gave her a trembling but thankful smile and grimaced a little when he proceeded to wipe tears and snot from his face. Crying really was an ugly and messy business.

His sharp intakes of breath were still half choked, closer to gasps and sobs, but he wasn't panicking anymore. He pressed the heel of his palm against one of his eyes, trying to stave off the headache he knew was approaching. Having a violent panic attack while crying did that to you. He was such a mess.

His hands shook when he turned to throw the soiled tissues in the trashcan next to his chair and he couldn't for the life of him gather enough strength to look at anyone but Mrs. McCall. He felt exhausted and weak. Mrs. McCall glanced around but Stiles brain was still lagging too much to understand why she would do that. Until she spoke, that was.

"It was werewolves, wasn't it?" She sounded worried, voice tense and low, and Stiles understood that she had to be thinking of Scott. Stiles nodded weakly.

"Y-yeah..." His voice didn't sound like his own but he forced himself to keep going. He felt lethargic and faint but there were more important matters at hand. "There's another pack lurking around Beacon Hills... a nasty one."

She nodded while running her hand over the back of his head again, almost as if by instinct. Stiles felt himself relax under the touch even if it normally would have made him stiffen. The care felt nice.

"I heard the deputies talk. They received an emergency call from a panicked girl fleeing from an unknown attacker sometime in the middle of the night," Mrs. McCall explained, Stiles nodding to show that he was listening. "When they reached her location they were ambushed by, well, they couldn't quite decide what, apparently. Some said it was human but the wounds resemble those of an animal."

Stiles stiffened as ice cold fear gripped his heart. His gaze snapped to Mrs. McCall.

"Were there any bites?" He didn't even want to consider the possibility but if the alpha had been involved in the attack there was a risk – a huge risk – that someone could be accidentally turned. Mrs. McCall quickly shook her head, either sensing Stiles' urgency or understanding the implications on her own.

"No, just claws. Your dad broke one of his legs and two ribs besides from the claw marks and two deputies got several nasty wounds but there were no bites."

Stiles forced himself to relax.

"Did they save the girl?" Stiles asked after a moment of silence. Mrs. McCall smiled softly.

"Yeah, they did."

That was a relief. It didn't make things okay but it made them a little better. At least no one had died. A lump lodged in Stiles' throat and no matter how much he tried he couldn't seem to swallow it. He had no idea what he would do if his dad died. He didn't want to lose the only parent he had left. He just couldn't. The pressure began to build in his chest again.

Mrs. McCall's soothing hand brought him back from the verge of another panic attack, her voice gentle as she spoke to him.

"Your dad will be fine. None of the wounds are life-threatening. It will take him months to fully recover but he will be fine, Stiles. You hear me?"

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his frantic heartbeat and the all too present thrum of panic.

"Yeah... yeah, I understand." He nodded furiously, as if to convince himself, and didn't object when Mrs. McCall slipped her free hand into one of his. He even squeezed it, thankful for the support.

"You want me to call Scott?" she asked and Stiles hesitated. That he even had to hesitate made him felt a sharp stab of pain. He licked his lips and rubbed his nose.

"I-... no, it's fine... he was hanging out with Allison last night and I don't want to-..." He wasn't even sure how he intended to finish that sentence and Mrs. McCall gave him a disapproving look.

"Stiles. He'll come running the moment I call. You know that, right?"

Stiles closed his eyes and pressed his lips together, trying to keep more tears at bay. He knew that. Scott wouldn't let him down. Only he had, so many times these past couple of weeks. But this was different, Stiles knew that. He was still afraid of the rejection though.

Gentle fingers brushed over his buzz cut and he met Mrs. McCall's sympathetic gaze.

"I know it's been hard. Scott's been rather distant..." She bit her lip, no doubt feeling guilty for her son's behavior even if she had no direct part in it. It was just something that parents did. "But his friendship with you – he wouldn't know what to do if he didn't have that. Allison might be the new shiny miracle he's distracted by at the moment but he'll always be your friend."

Stiles wanted to believe her, so desperately, and he found that at least the majority of him did. He let Mrs. McCall pull him close in a one-armed embrace, his head resting against her shoulder. Stiles had forgotten what it felt like to be hugged like this, in that unmistakable way that only moms could. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"When can I see him?"

Mrs. McCall rested her chin on top of his head, a soft sigh leaving her.

"In an hour or two. He's sedated and won't regain consciousness for another couple of hours. But you can see him before that, if you want."

"Y-yeah..." Stiles cleared his throat. "I want to see him."

He knew that it would be pure torture. He didn't need to see another one of his parents strapped down to a hospital bed with tubes and wires everywhere but he wouldn't forgive himself if he wasn't there for his dad. He could handle it. He _had_ to handle it.

"I'll come and get you when it's time," Mrs. McCall promised and he was glad that she was the one who would take him. He wasn't sure how he would react to a nameless, unknown nurse at that point. He didn't doubt their sincerity when it came to his father's care but a familiar face did a lot to calm his frayed nerves.

"Thanks," he whispered, voice rough with all of the emotions waiting to burst out of him. What could only be a kiss was placed on the top of his head and Stiles grit his teeth against the flare of pain in his chest, equal to the warm hum of comfort that came from the gesture.

"I'll call Scott," Mrs. McCall said, her voice soft but determined. Stiles apparently had no say in the matter and a part of him was glad to have the decision taken out of his hands. He nodded mutely but remained where he was, tucked under her chin, resting a little awkwardly against her smaller frame. He wanted the warmth just a little bit longer. She didn't seem reluctant to give it.

 

 

Scott came to the hospital fifteen minutes later, hair still unruly from sleep and clothes wrinkled and haphazardly arranged. His brown eyes were wide with fear and what seemed to be guilt, which only intensified when he caught sight of Stiles. Scott hurried over, sinking into the chair next to Stiles with a high pitched whine that sounded surprisingly much like a puppy's. Stiles was completely still, hands folded in his lap and the soles of his shoes against the floor. He did turn his head to regard his friend though, eyes tired and shoulders slumping. He didn't have the energy to do much else than that. He just felt so powerless. Stiles knew that he hadn't been this somber since the death of his mother.

"How is he?" Scott asked, voice full of trepidation. Stiles took a deep breath.

"Stable... he's in bad shape but stable." It still hurt to talk about it and he stared back at the floor, feeling Scott's burning gaze, as if Scott was trying to decode every nuance in Stiles' behavior and mood. Scott knew Stiles so well by then that he didn't need much to understand exactly what Stiles was feeling. "They say that he'll make a full recovery..."

"That's great." Scott didn't sound very enthusiastic though and Stiles had a feeling that it was because of all of that guilt he had seen in Scott's eyes. Stiles wasn't even surprised at that point. Scott had a habit of shouldering more than he strictly needed to, or should.

Stiles knew that this was where he was supposed to reassure Scott and tell him that everything would be fine but he just couldn't. Stiles wanted to be the one who needed reassurance for once. He was just too afraid to ask for it.

A silence fell between them during which Scott fidgeted, much like how Stiles would have done if he hadn't been so out of balance. Now he just kept staring at the floor as if it held the answers to all life's mysteries. As expected he was having the mother of all headaches but he was too tired to ask for anything to counter it. He could tell that Scott was growing more and more anxious for each moment that passed in silence.

"Stiles, are you mad at me?" Scott asked eventually, tone weak and pleading.

"I don't know, Scott," Stiles replied wearily. "Should I be?"

He met Scott's gaze and there was no mistaking the pain and sympathy there. Scott was just as worried as Stiles was. Scott really was a good person.

"I know that if I had just listened to you I might have been able to-"

"No, Scott," Stiles interrupted. He remained slouched in the uncomfortable hospital chair, looking more ungraceful and broken than ever. "Don't say that."

"But you were right! We could have prevented this from happening!" Scott exclaimed but Stiles just sighed and closed his eyes. It would be so easy to agree – to blame this all on Scott – but Stiles didn't have the heart to do it. He knew it wasn't true. Derek and Boyd had been out patrolling the previous night and they hadn't been able to stop it so Scott wouldn't have made that much of a difference. Stiles was tempted to blame them – all of them, he really was – because sorrow wasn't reasonable and it wasn't kind, but he knew better than that. He was just so tired.

"Scott..." Stiles looked at Scott, unable to smile but trying to convey his lack of anger with his gaze alone. "I don't blame you. And I don't blame Derek or Boyd. It was just..." He grit his teeth against the sick roll of his stomach, against the panic and worry. "It's the other pack's fault. They were the ones who did it."

Scott wavered indecisively before reaching out, his arm looping around Stiles' shoulders. Stiles relaxed into the embrace, trying to show that he wasn't upset. At least not with Scott.

"I just... I never meant for this to happen."

"Of course you didn't, Scott. You're lawfully good. You wouldn't harm a fly."

A small, weak smile spread on Scott's lips.

"I have harmed flies. And bigger things."

"Shush," Stiles admonished, slapping Scott's arm, welcoming the familiarity of the banter even if it was distinctively more gloomy than usual, "you know what I mean. I know that you always do your best to help."

Scott fell silent, clearly struggling with some kind of inner turmoil. Stiles let him handle it in peace and settled more comfortably against Scott instead. They didn't hug much nowadays, if they ever had, but physical contact was still such an obvious part of their friendship that it didn't feel awkward. It usually came in the shape of reprimanding slaps and playful pokes and pinches but it didn't exclude hugs or shoulder bumps and the occasional back rub. It felt comforting, real and grounding. Stiles liked and welcomed it.

"Stiles, I'm sorry," Scott whispered suddenly and Stiles frowned. His hands were still lying slack in his lap, motionless for once.

"About what?"

Scott sucked in a deep breath, as if he needed to brace himself for a blow.

"For how I've been treating you lately."

Stiles stiffened but didn't move away. This was a conversation he wasn't entirely certain that he wanted to have in the middle of the hospital waiting room but he couldn't deny that he had looked for answers for weeks now. He wanted to know why he was suddenly ranked so low on Scott's list of priorities. Why Scott didn't answer his calls or give him the proper support when he needed it. It had never been like that before. They had always been together, through thick and thin, and Stiles had never thought that he would have to doubt Scott's commitment. It hurt to have to doubt him.

Stiles just wanted things to be like they were before. And he didn't mean without Allison – oh no, Scott could have Allison all he wanted – Stiles just wanted to feel as if he was actually worth the effort in Scott's eyes. He wanted Scott to remember him too, from time to time.

"There's just been so much on my mind and I know that's not a good excuse but I just-..." Scott fell silent, apparently lost for words. After a second or two Stiles took pity on him.

"Scott, it's okay. I understand."

"No! That's the thing!" Scott sat straighter, forcing Stiles to do the same and he wasn't ashamed to admit that he whined childishly when he lost his pillow. Scott was a very nice pillow. "It's _not_ okay, Stiles! And I know that! I do. And I want to make it better."

Scott seemed to deflate and Stiles managed a weak, rather pathetic, smile.

"I know." Because he really did. Scott always wanted the best for everyone. It didn't always happen but at least he tried. "And I can't ask for more than that."

Scott's scowl was a surprise.

"Yes, you can. And you should. You need to tell me when I let you down."

"Oh come on!" Stiles whined. He didn't want to be that kind of nagging, demanding friend that Scott would eventually shun just to avoid getting complained at by.

"Okay, fine. Then at least slap me for it."

Stiles choked on a laugh and that, more than anything, proved exactly why Scott was his best friend. If Scott could make Stiles smile even during a situation such as this one he was definitely a keeper. A warm hum spread in Stiles' chest despite the overhanging worry and fear. Scott had his back.

"And that's better how exactly?" Stiles asked and to his surprise Scott grinned, wide and pleased, like a praised puppy.

"Because it made you smile."

Oh God that was so sweet that Stiles felt an urgent need to brush his teeth. But that was Scott in a nutshell. Stiles smiled again, weakly, yes, but he smiled, before bumping his forehead against Scott's shoulder.

"I'm really sorry that Allison broke up with you," Stiles mumbled. It wasn't something he had even come close to voicing before but it was still true. Perhaps it was high time for some honesty. "But you handle it really well. I'm actually impressed. You're doing good, Scott, and it's really nice of you to let her deal with her issues in her own pace."

Scott sighed in that heartbroken way Stiles had grown rather accustomed to but there was a hint of a smile on his lips and in his voice.

"I'll wait for her forever."

That would have sounded dumb said by anyone else but Scott. It was so unbearably cheesy but Scott somehow made it work – he managed to make it sound completely sincere. Scott was just that devoted. Or perhaps it was because Scott and Allison were just meant to be. Stiles was pretty sure of that by then.

"Yeah, yeah, Romeo," Stiles replied with a snort, "don't get too carried away."

Scott chuckled before pulling Stiles close once more. Stiles wasn't entirely sure who Scott was trying to reassure at that point but he wasn't going to complain. Stiles needed the warmth and the physical contact and it wasn't a bad thing if Scott benefited from it as well.

"Are we good?" Scott asked slowly, hesitantly.

Stiles took a deep breath and considered that for a moment. He wasn't lying when he said that he wasn't mad. A part of him wanted to be just to have someone to blame for it all – it was so easy when you had someone to blame – but it shouldn't be Scott. Stiles would never forgive himself if he did that.

He was obviously not over having been ignored and forgotten but they were working on that. Stiles could acknowledge that Scott was trying. It might take a while to perfect but at least he made the effort. Sometimes that was worth more than the actual result. So yeah, he assumed that they were pretty good. Not perfect and not the best they could be but they were good.

"Yeah." Stiles closed his eyes with a soft smile. "We're good, Scott."

He could almost feel Scott vibrating with pleased excitement and if he hadn't been so tired – both thanks to the situation and his obvious lack of sleep – he would have chuckled. Scott was such a puppy sometimes.

"I'm gonna be better. I promise."

Well, Stiles didn't know about that, but he knew that Scott would try. It would have to do. He was there now if nothing else and Stiles knew that nothing short of the apocalypse would tear Scott from his side. Not when he so obviously needed him. Scott was going to stay with him and keep the panic and fear at bay.

It was probably that knowledge, together with the suddenly crushing weight of exhaustion that swept over Stiles, that made it possible for him to inch closer to Scott, settle more comfortably against his shoulder and slowly drift off to sleep. It didn't matter that it was in the middle of the hospital, still too early for the morning rush to start. All that mattered was that Stiles felt safe and secure despite all the fear and worry for his dad. Scott gave him that, just like always. Scott was one of his centers – a firm point to orbit around – and at that moment Stiles really needed the comfort.

Scott gave it without question.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a rather difficult chapter to write due to all the emotions and panic... but I think it came out rather well in the end.  
> This chapter - as well as the following two - are very character oriented so there will be a lot of character development, character interaction and most of all some serious steps forwards in terms of plot and relationships.  
> So see you next Friday!
> 
> Once again I want to thank my lovely beta [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum)


	15. Pack

  


 

* * *

 

Stiles had been right. Seeing his dad lying in the hospital bed broke something within him that could never be fixed. He would never be able to forget the fear that gripped him when he saw how frail his dad looked, wrapped in bandages, left leg in a cast and oxygen mask strapped over his nose and mouth. It would feature in his nightmares for years to come and he would be helpless to stop it. The sheer amount of fear was unimaginable and unstoppable.

Mrs. McCall had seemed hesitant when she finally came to let him know that he could see his dad. Stiles suspected that it was partly because he had still been fast asleep, leaning against Scott and obviously in need of rest, but even more so because she had to understand what it would do to him to see his father like that. People always said that parents shouldn't have to bury their children and while that was undoubtedly true Stiles thought that no child should ever have to bury their parent until they were old enough to be one themselves. Stiles had already seen one of his parents buried. He could still remember it like it was yesterday. He would lose it completely if it happened again.

He tried to keep the tears at bay while standing at his father's bedside but he wasn't able to think of much to say. He knew that it technically didn't matter because his dad would wake up once the sedatives wore off and he could tell him whatever he wanted then. It still felt like an obligation to say something. But he couldn't. The words lay lifeless on his tongue and his thoughts flickered on and off like a dying light bulb. He couldn't think of a thing to say.

So he just stood there watching his dad, the distant hum of the machines echoing in the still room. Stiles traced his fingers along the sheets of the bed before gently touching his father's hand. It was the only thing he dared to do. A part of him feared that he would somehow make things worse if he touched him too much. His need for reassurance made him want to cling to his dad and never let go but there was hospital equipment in the way. So he settled for a light squeeze with his hand instead. He would demand a hug as soon as his dad woke up though. Stiles had a feeling that his dad would be more than happy to give it.

Neither of them spoke about his mom's death but they were obviously not over the loss. You never really would be. Time doesn't heal all wounds but it might make it easier to handle the things you've been through. It doesn't make it better or less painful but it teaches you to prioritize and survive another day. At least that was how it was for Stiles.

He could handle his mother's death on an everyday basis – except for certain dates that would never, ever be the same again – but something like this brought it to the forefront. The memories of spending countless hours at his mother's bedside morphed together with what he was experiencing now, making it difficult to differentiate between the two events. Half of the time Stiles seemed to forget that his dad wasn't dying.

His dad was going to feel so guilty for putting Stiles through the fear of almost losing another parent, even if he of course hadn't intended to. His dad was going to know, the moment he woke up, that he had scared Stiles in the worst way imaginable. Stiles wouldn't know what to do without his dad. His dad might not be the only person he cared about but it was _his dad_. He couldn't die.

Stiles took a deep breath, knowing that Scott was waiting just outside, standing vigil like the guard dog that he was. Stiles didn't mind. Scott had even offered to come inside with him but Stiles had wanted to do it on his own. Mostly because he didn't want to cry in front of Scott if he could help it. Not that he was crying but he wasn't far from it either.

Stiles squeezed his father's hand again and forced himself to smile. It was cracked around the edges and held more sorrow than joy but at least he tried.

"I love you, Dad..."

They were the only words he said to his father while he was still unconscious, but then again – they were the only ones that mattered.

 

 

Stiles would probably have forgotten to eat if it hadn't been for Scott. And Scott would probably have forgotten to feed Stiles if it hadn't been for Mrs. McCall, who came by every now and then to check up on them. Stiles had no intention of leaving the hospital and luckily enough no one asked him to. He would probably have thrown a fit if they did. So it fell to the McCalls to keep him relatively functional since Stiles spent most of his time just staring off into space.

He and Scott were seated in marginally more comfortable chairs down the corridor from his dad's hospital room. Stiles had wanted to be closer, Mrs. McCall had suggested the common waiting room which would have been even further away – with less comfortable chairs – and Scott had decided on the current compromise. Until his dad woke up the doctors and nurses had decided that it was better if Stiles didn't spend too much time in his father's room so camping out in the hallway it was. Stiles had relented rather quickly on that actually since he knew that it would be better for his sanity.

Scott was handing him Reese's Peanut Butter Cups as if Stiles was a starving, dying kitten and Stiles couldn't exactly say that he minded being pampered. It might have been a tad bit emasculating but Stiles figured that he would enjoy it while it lasted. He hadn't felt very masculine ever since Erica decked him with parts from his own car anyway.

The longer time he spent at the hospital the calmer he got, thank God. He didn't like hospitals very much but with Scott beside him the reluctance was easier to handle. And once the initial panic had settled he managed to focus on the good things. His dad was alive. His dad was going to wake up. Those were the things he needed to remember. So Stiles forced the images of his father lying in the hospital bed from his mind and tried to devote himself wholeheartedly to the sugary goodness Scott kept feeding him instead. Thinking further than that was a bit of a challenge at the moment.

Well, that might have been a lie. Stiles couldn't keep his erratic thoughts from flicking restlessly from one subject to another without the help of medication – which he had not taken due to the rude awakening that morning. He had to remember to get some Adderall at his earliest convenience. His dad would not be pleased if he woke up to find that Stiles had messed up his dosage. No one would be pleased if that happened in fact, considering the repercussions it would have on Stiles' already flaky behavior.

"I'm really sorry this happened," Scott mumbled all of a sudden.

Stiles nearly choked on his candy in his haste to reply.

"Dude. It's still not your fault. You're not the one who should apologize. Drop it." Stiles absently licked the chocolate smears from his fingertips.

"But I could have done something to prevent it!" Scott exclaimed, looking fierce and righteous as ever. Stiles welcomed his newfound ability to roll his eyes.

"Cut it out, Scott. Don't blame yourself for this." Stiles took a deep breath. His chest still felt unnaturally tight but not enough to cause another panic attack. "It won't make it any better – or easier for that matter."

"Then who should we blame? Derek?" Scott didn't sound as if he really meant that but Stiles felt a need to squash that thought right away.

"No, Derek had nothing to do with this." Stiles fiddled with the hem of his t-shirt and fought an urge to shiver. The hospital felt quite chilly despite the warm temperature outside. Or perhaps it was just Stiles' anxiety. "He's easy to blame but he had as little influence over this as you did. You can't be everywhere at once. He might be an alpha but he's not all-powerful."

Stiles knew that he should have told Scott about what had happened at the gas station but he wasn't sure if he wanted to deal with the argument that would undoubtedly follow. Especially since the werewolves had probably come for him because of Scott. It was important information but Stiles was still reeling from what had happened to his dad. If it hadn't been his father then it might have been Stiles himself who got hurt, but Stiles couldn't say that. Mostly because he would have preferred that scenario over the current one and didn't want Scott to know.

Scott chuckled softly and Stiles gave him a curious look.

"You realize that you're saying no to the perfect opportunity to blame Derek for something, right?"

Stiles gave a snort that should have been a chuckle but fell pretty short.

"Yeah, I know. Never thought that would happen, huh?" Stiles took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. "It's just that... it won't help, you know? Sure, they might have been able to prevent it if they had been patrolling where the attack happened but they can't be everywhere. I know that. Being childish and pointing fingers isn't going to make things better or solve our problems." He rubbed his forehead. "At least that's what I'm telling myself, because a part of me really does want to blame someone..."

It was only natural – human even – to want that. But Stiles didn't have the luxury. He needed to think of something that would keep the situation from escalating further, not hold petty grudges.

He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn't realize that Scott was silent and practically motionless beside him. Until Scott let out a long, slow breath before straightening in his chair.

"I'm going to do it."

Stiles blinked, clearly not on the same page as his best friend.

"Do what? Blame someone?" It was understandable if Stiles wasn't firing on all cylinders.

Scott shook his head and gave Stiles a determined look. One that usually booked trouble and resulted in far too many adventures that could end with them getting hurt. Stiles opened his mouth to protest, even without knowing what it was about, but Scott beat him to it.

"I'm joining Derek's pack."

Stiles was so stunned that he forgot to close his mouth again. He just stared, words slipping through his fingers while his expression morphed into one of disbelief. He gaped like a goldfish a couple of times before shaking his head, as if to clear it from a fog.

"Say what?"

"I'm joining Derek's pack," Scott repeated patiently, as if he had expected Stiles' obvious lack of comprehension. What he didn't seem to have expected was Stiles' reeling back a little in his chair while waving dramatically.

"Dude! No!"

Scott frowned in that adorable puppy manner of his, clearly confused.

"But you were the one who wanted me to..."

"No! I mean yes, I was! But no!" Stiles forced himself to shut up and take a deep, calming breath before turning as much towards Scott as he could in his seat. "It should be a willing decisions, no-"

"It is. I'm saying that I want to."

"Shut up and let me finish!" Stiles slapped Scott's arm but it barely registered with the werewolf. "I don't think that you should make that kind of decision when weighted down by all of this guilt. Which, by the way, is still totally unnecessary. It's not your fault."

Stiles couldn't believe that he was saying this, but it was true. He had wanted to convince Scott to join Derek's pack, not guilting him into it. That usually resulted in misery on everyone's part. Scott had to want it for himself, not because he felt obligated.

"No, Stiles, you listen to me now," Scott ordered, voice harsh and commanding enough to made Stiles shut his mouth so fast his teeth clicked. Scott's eyes were completely human but intense in a way that Stiles had never seen before. He was suddenly struck by how much Scott had actually grown. "It's not because of guilt. It's because I know it's the right thing to do. I want to do this. I don't want to sit here and whine over not being able to do anything when there obvious _is_ something I can do. It's not ideal but dude, when is it ever for us?"

Scott sighed, looking slightly more miserable but still determined.

"I just... I want to solve this. I don't want more people getting hurt. I'm not stupid and I'm not a child, Stiles. This is what's right and I'm going to do it. Please trust me."

Stiles stared. And blinked.

"Wow... if it wasn't for the fact that there are cameras here and your mother would have a conniption if she saw it I would totally kiss you right now."

Scott laughed and gave Stiles a playful push, for once mindful of his own strength. Stiles still swayed in his seat but not enough to make him topple over.

"No, really, I mean it, Scott. You totally deserve a kiss for that." Stiles nodded eagerly but Scott took it for the playful banter that it was and just grinned. Stiles grinned back. That was awesome. Scott was so awesome. They were getting somewhere on this. Stiles had never thought that Scott would agree, especially with his and Allison's shaky truce.

The smile fell from Stiles' lips and a small frown settled on his face instead.

"What about Allison?" He had to ask, even if he didn't want to remind Scott about the biggest reason he had had to refuse in the past.

The air seemed to go out of Scott and he slumped in his chair. He didn't look surprised though. It was obvious that Scott had already considered Allison and her reaction but still decided to join Derek's pack. In that moment Scott gained so many extra points in Stiles' eyes. Scott hadn't made a hasty decision. He had thought it through and decided on it even if it might cost him Allison.

Scott seemed to steel himself but it was a feeble attempt and Stiles saw the uncertainty that lay underneath it.

"If she still wants to be with me she'll understand."

Stiles' eyebrows rose. That was certainly not what he had expected Scott to say. He had been sure that it would be something along the lines of Scott trying to win her back no matter the circumstances. That was what the old Scott would have said at least, as if it was all on him, as if he had to be the only one fighting for the relationship.

This was somehow a lot more reasonable. Harsh, yes, but more mature. It showed a certain amount of self-respect that was new for Scott – as if he didn't have to bend over backwards just to please Allison. It put some demands on her, yes, but it evened the playing field. It made Scott so much less pathetic. Stiles was very proud.

"I think that she will," Stiles replied. It might be half a lie but Scott didn't seem to be able to tell the difference, not with how his countenance brightened.

"Really?"

"Yeah. She's a nice, smart girl and she really likes you. I mean, _really_ likes you."

Scott seemed to hesitate.

"But Derek killed her mom..."

Stiles took a deep breath and rubbed his neck. There was no denying that.

"Yeah, well, it was under pretty fishy circumstances and I think that she'll have to learn that life isn't black and white. I'm pretty certain that her granddad was a part of it somehow and she knows that too. She'll come around."

Scott sighed and slumped even lower in his chair, until he was practically lying down. It looked hilarious and Stiles couldn't help smiling fondly. He was getting increasingly sappy but didn't quite have the heart to feel embarrassed about it.

"I hope you're right."

"Dude!" Stiles gave Scott a reprimanding punch on the shoulder before letting his hand rest there comfortingly. "When am I ever wrong? Haven't you learned that you should never ever question what I say?"

Scott chuckled weakly before giving Stiles a crooked smile.

"I know..."

"And you remember that, okay? We're gonna set this right." Stiles poked Scott's cheek before letting out a breath. "Somehow. I don't know how yet but we're going to. Alright?"

"Yeah." Scott's smile grew stronger until it was a full-blown puppy grin. "Yeah, we'll manage."

"We always do, bro," Stiles replied with a cocky smirk of his own before he followed Scott's example and sunk ridiculously low in his chair.

It was actually pretty comfortable. And made them look like complete dorks. Their grins turned into laughs and right then, for a moment, Stiles forgot about all of his pain. Right then and there it was just him and Scott, being best friends like they always had and always would be.

 

 

If Stiles hadn't already been absolutely certain that Lydia was a goddess she sure as hell proved her divine status two hours later when she arrived with a fast food bag in her hand. It was slightly past lunch by then and not even candy from the vending machine was able to keep the hunger at bay. Stiles wasn't even going to consider the cafeteria food.

Stiles wasn't sure if he was supposed to be more surprised by Lydia's obvious generosity or the fact that Jackson was trailing behind her. Jackson's face was set in a displeased frown but he seemed completely relaxed, as if it was an act he was keeping together, not actual disgruntlement.

"I thought you might be hungry," Lydia said, voice perky and pleasant in a way that didn't book room for argument. She held out the bag towards him and it wasn't until Scott elbowed him in his side that Stiles regained his motor functions and accepted it. Jackson rolled his eyes.

Stiles stared into the bag, then back up at Lydia, gaping uselessly for a moment. Jackson sighed patronizingly. Stiles opened and peeked into the bag, barely believing what he saw.

"You... bought me curly fries?" Stiles was sure that he was dreaming. Lydia Martin had not just come to the hospital and brought him curly fries and a large soda. Nope. Not possible.

"Of course I did," she replied before seating herself in the vacant chair next to Stiles, movements breezy and light, as if she belonged there.

Okay, perhaps it was possible. Jackson leaned back against the wall opposite to their chairs, arms crossed and a bored expression fixed on his face. Once again Stiles got the impression that it was more for show than an actual emotion Jackson was feeling though. It was getting easier and easier to catch glimpses of Jackson underneath that douchebag facade.

"Hey, what about me? I'm hungry too," Scott whined, puppy pout in place. Lydia was not impressed and just gave Scott a delicately raised eyebrow and a look that seemed to ask whether he wanted to argue with her about it. Scott – the wise boy that he was – backed down immediately. Stiles rewarded him with a few curly fries as soon as he had managed to get the container open and they both dug into the food with unrivalled glee.

"How is your dad?" Lydia asked, keen green eyes turning towards Stiles.

Stiles had expected the question, he really had, but it still made him choke on his food. Lydia gave him a sympathetic and slightly disgusted look. She deserved a medal for managing to merge those two expressions as flawlessly as she did.

Stiles coughed breathlessly while Scott thumped him helpfully on the back which, in all honesty, did more damage than actual good. Perhaps it was the thought that counted.

"He's-" Stiles gave a final cough before licking his lips "- he's going to be fine. It will take a while but he'll recover."

"I'm glad to hear that." Like with everything Lydia said it was difficult to tell whether she was sincere or not but her eyes were kind and surprisingly compassionate. Stiles' heart rate picked up.

He cleared his throat and nibbled on one of his fries.

"How did you know?"

Lydia gave him a look that seemed to say that he was a particularly stupid specimen of a lower standing species, and while he was certainly not as smart as she was he thought that he deserved a little more credit than that. Then again, that was how Lydia looked at everybody.

"Sweetie, the entire town knows."

Stiles wasn't certain what to freak out over first. The fact that Lydia had called him sweetie or the idea that everyone knew that his dad was at the hospital. He settled for an unintelligent sound that was half questioning grunt, half choked whimper. She patted his hand and to Stiles' amazement actually took it as well, holding it between her much smaller ones. Stiles swallowed harshly but it didn't quite feel as overwhelming as it would have under other circumstances. He actually felt more touched than horny. Thank God. Jackson didn't seemed very pleased at it was – if Stiles' reaction would have been different he would have been mauled by now.

"He's the sheriff. Of course everyone knows, idiot," Jackson pointed out and while his tone had that usual condescending edge it felt rather flat and forced. Stiles looked at the newly turned werewolf and Jackson's responding glare seemed to urge him to call him out on the obvious lack of real resentment. Stiles didn't.

"Okay... yeah, that makes sense." Stiles forced a weak smile. "Thanks for dropping by."

He doubted that Jackson had come on his own volition. Actually, he wasn't even sure why Lydia was there. They weren't exactly friends. They shared information and Stiles was still worshipping the very ground she walked on but it was all very one-sided. He wasn't sure if she had even known his name before the whole werewolf thing started.

"Jackson has something to say too," Lydia announced before giving Jackson an imploring look. An insulted scoff was heard from Jackson but there was something akin to a smile twitching at the corner of his lips, as if Jackson found her ordering him around funny for some reason. Stiles couldn't figure out why. He would be terrified in Jackson's position.

Since Jackson seemed to turn his attention to Scott Stiles continued to eat. With one of his hands. The other was still clutched between Lydia's and he had no intention of removing it unless she told him to. He was going to cherish what little he got for as long as he could.

"I-..." Jackson hesitated, clenching his jaw as if it was physically painful for him to speak. And with his next words Stiles realized that this truly _had_ to be painful for Jackson to admit this. "I need help."

Even Scott seemed completely baffled by the admission.

"You... need help? From me?"

"No, McCall, from your mother," Jackson sneered. "Of course I mean you! What kind of first grade idiot are you?"

"You should probably ease up on the insults if you want him to help you. A 'please' wouldn't hurt either," Stiles pointed out helpfully, not missing the opportunity to grin cheekily. Jackson glared and clearly didn't plan on saying anything else. To everyone's surprise Lydia was the one who did.

"Please."

Stiles stared at her, his hand with fries stopping halfway to his mouth. He wasn't sure if he had ever heard her say please before. Sure, she didn't look very pleading but she was honest. Jackson seemed slightly betrayed but humbled at the same time. Lydia straightened, as if steeling herself.

"Jackson needs help from werewolves to learn how to handle his new powers. He has better control but there are things I can't teach him. And this, with the murders and wounded police officers, it can't go on," she said, voice firm but tight.

"I know," Scott replied, expression equally serious, "which is why I've decided to join Derek's pack. For real this time."

"You have?" The surprise on Jackson's face was evident. Lydia gave Stiles a sneaky little look, as if he had had something to do with it, and while he did to some degree he subtly shook his head no. He couldn't take that much credit for it.

Scott nodded, oblivious to the silent communication taking place next to him.

"I don't want anyone else to get hurt." Scott hesitated before looking at Jackson. "What about you?"

Jackson turned his head, looking away. His jaw was working, fists clenched, and it took him a couple of seconds before he replied.

"I haven't decided."

It sounded as if he had though and Stiles had a pretty good idea of what he had chosen. But that might have been because Lydia's pleased little smile really said it all. She had promised to talk to Jackson about it and there was nothing she couldn't accomplish when she put her mind to it.

"You should come too," Scott urged, all eager puppy. Jackson scoffed but there was something in his posture that changed – something eased. Lydia and Jackson exchanged glances and Scott continued, not catching the small details of the conversation. "We can help, both of us."

"You think that Derek is going to agree?" Jackson asked.

"I think that he won't know better," Stiles replied after swallowing the last mouthful of curly fries. "He's been nagging at Scott for ages to join him so he clearly doesn't have very high standards. You'll fit right in, Jackson."

Jackson gave him a murderous glare while Scott elbowed him in the side. Stiles just grinned and took a sip from the soda Lydia had been kind enough to bring.

"He has a point though," Scott conceded. "I doubt that Derek will say no. He's been eager to build a bigger pack as far as I've understood."

"It's a shitty pack," Jackson sneered and Stiles felt his hackles rise, just a little. Not because of the implications that Derek sucked – oh no, completely in agreement there – but Stiles was actually rather fond of the puppies by then. Especially Erica. She was just kick ass.

Stiles didn't even register the fact that he was gnawing furiously on his straw.

"We can make it better," Scott, ever the optimist, said. Jackson raised an amused eyebrow.

"What? Like we made the lacrosse team better by being co-captains?" There was clear condescension and sarcasm in that reply and Stiles knew for a fact that Scott was playing dumb when he didn't react to it. Not even Scott was stupid enough to miss that, not after having been submitted to Stiles' ways for years.

"Exactly," Scott replied, all bright eyes and good intentions. "I think we could do it. And I think that we can stop this new pack from killing more people."

"And why exactly would I care about that?" Jackson rolled his eyes, trying to come off as indifferent. Stiles would have none of that.

"It doesn't matter why, just that you do."

Jackson grit his teeth.

"But I don't care, Stilinski."

Stiles scoffed and chased the mangled straw with the tip of his tongue before replying.

"You wouldn't be here if you didn't." Jackson opened his mouth as if to answer but Stiles beat him to it with a sharp nod in Lydia's direction. "You have things to protect, just like everyone else."

Jackson froze and looked at Lydia, and just like that Stiles felt utterly obsolete. The look they gave each other really said it all. It said so much. And it still hurt.

He tried to subtly pull his hand away from Lydia's grasp – hardly believing that she was still holding it – but her fingers tightened around his, to his immense surprise. He gave her a confused look and when she finally tore her eyes away from Jackson she seemed a little shaken. Stiles didn't know why so he decided that holding her hand for a while longer was probably a good idea. He could handle it.

"Jackson will be joining you." Lydia's voice wasn't nearly as commanding as it usually was and Jackson didn't even seem insulted to have her speak on his behalf. He didn't seem happy either but that probably had more to do with the subject than Lydia's involvement in it.

"Great!" Scott smiled in that infectious, innocent way of his but Jackson seemed utterly immune. Or perhaps he was just pretending to be in order to save some face.

Stiles slurped down the last of his soda before piling all the trash into the bag Lydia had brought the food in, handing it over to Scott with a cheerful little smile. Scott gave him a look that clearly stated that he wasn't impressed by Stiles' growing habit of treating him like a servant but Scott took the bag none the less and went to dump it in the trashcan a little further down the hall.

"So what's the plan?" Lydia asked and Stiles twitched in surprise when he realized that she was talking to him. But, then again, he shouldn't have been – no one wanted to hear Scott's suggestions.

"Ah... good question. Alerting Derek that Scott and Jackson will be joining his little band of wolves is one of the first steps, I guess. We haven't really thought further than that and I can't really leave the hospital because-..." Stiles fell silent, once again reminded of why they were actually there. Why things were finally moving in the right direction. His dad was in the hospital, mauled by werewolves.

Stiles took a deep breath but it wasn't really helping. The food he had just eaten rolled in his stomach, making him feel queasy. He could feel Lydia squeezing his hand and as if sensing Stiles' distress Scott returned to his chair a moment later, a firm, calming presence on Stiles' right. Jackson was blessedly silent.

"We'll think of something," Stiles squeezed out, feeling a lot less enthusiastic all of a sudden.

Everything still felt so difficult. Scott and Jackson had made a choice but what did it really mean? Would it be easy to implement? His mind flicked from one thought to the next and Stiles found himself wishing desperately for some Adderall – anything to help him focus really. Stiles headache seemed to return tenfold and he rubbed his temple with his free hand.

Scott suddenly straightened in his chair and it took Stiles an extra moment to realize that his best friend was listening to something. Footsteps, it turned out a moment later. Stiles looked up just in time to see Isaac, Erica and Boyd come down the end of the corridor. Stiles' eyebrows rose high as he gave Scott a questioning look but Scott just shrugged, looking as confused as Stiles felt. Neither Jackson nor Lydia seemed to have expected the werewolf trio either. So why on earth were they there?

Stiles got his answer – or at least half a one – when the three werewolves stopped just a couple of feet from them, matching expressions of sympathy and worry on their faces. A lump lodged in Stiles' throat. They were here for him. They were here because his father had gotten hurt and they wanted to show support, like Scott and Lydia. He hadn't known that he was that close to them – that he _mattered_ that much. It was suddenly a little difficult to breathe and his eyes stung.

"I'm sorry..." Boyd's voice was laced with shame and guilt, something Stiles had never thought that he would hear – least of all when it was directed towards him. But he could understand it. Boyd had been out patrolling last night but someone had still gotten hurt. Stiles' dad even, not just a nameless face. Boyd and Stiles were only acquaintances but Boyd wasn't heartless. Stiles could see it clear as day that if Boyd could change this – change Stiles' father getting hurt – he would have. And it meant so much to Stiles.

Stiles licked his lips and tried to chuckle but it came out choked and weak. Not even Jackson tried to tease him for it.

"What is it with people and apologizing for things that aren't their fault?" He met Boyd's gaze, trying to show that he wasn't lying. That he wasn't mad. "I don't blame you, Boyd."

Boyd met his gaze for a moment or two before lowering it to the floor instead. He still looked ashamed.

"Is he going to be okay?" Erica asked, voice soft in a way that Stiles had never really heard before. He imagined that it had to have been how she talked before the transformation, when shame and fear was a common occurrence in her daily life. Stiles was glad that she didn't use that voice anymore.

"Yeah." Stiles nodded. "He'll recover..."

All three werewolves showed immense relief and Stiles was once again struck dumb by how involved they seemed in him. How much they seemed to care about _him_. It was mind-blowing.

"We overheard you talk..." Isaac said, almost a little off-handed, before a smile, crooked and weak, spread on his lips. "That you'll be joining."

Isaac was looking at Stiles when he said the words – which was slightly odd – but Isaac soon turned towards Scott as well, who was nodding in confirmation.

"Yeah, it's high time we do something about this."

"Agreed," Lydia said, voice a little clipped but not unfriendly. She squeezed Stiles hand and he felt something swell in his chest. Had he done this? Was this his doing? Scott and Jackson had made the choices, yes, but Stiles had been the one to send the ball rolling.

To Stiles bafflement Isaac took another set of steps and unceremoniously seated himself on the floor, his back a warm, comforting weight that leaned against Stiles' right leg. Isaac looked up, through dark eyelashes and soft curls and smiled softly – innocently almost.

"Thank you." Isaac's voice was firm and determined and Stiles found himself holding his breath. "I know this is because of you."

Isaac sounded so much surer of himself, as if he had finally found that something he had been looking for. He had found somewhere to belong. And yeah, that was definitely tears fogging Stiles' eyes. He was an emotional wreck.

Erica crouched in front of him, a sad but considerate smile on her lips. Stiles swallowed thickly when Erica sank to the floor as well, taking a seat much like Isaac, leaning against Stiles' other leg but careful not to touch Lydia in any way. Boyd took up the other spot opposite to them, leaning against the wall next to Jackson but with a distinctly different air about him. Boyd was standing guard. Erica leaned her head against Stiles' knee, as close as she could get while still remaining decent. Stiles had forgotten how to breathe.

Lydia squeezed his left hand while another one slipped into his right – Scott's hand. Stiles looked at his best friend, who was giving him a beaming smile, as if Stiles had just performed some kind of miracle. Stiles looked at the people surrounding him. Boyd and Jackson with their serious expressions but protective postures. Erica and Isaac on the floor, warm, grounding weights against his legs. Lydia to his left, holding his hand in hers while she leaned closer, resting her head against Stiles' shoulder. And Scott to his right, one of his centers, one of his constants. They were all there. Because of him. With him.

Perhaps he could perform miracles after all.

"We won't let anyone else get hurt," Scott said to his right, voice low but determined. "Your dad will be safe too. We'll protect him."

There were approving nods from Isaac, Erica and Boyd and even Jackson seemed to straighten a little, as if to acknowledge the promise that was being made. Stiles bit his lip while trying to keep the tears at bay. He could hear Isaac chuckle, soon joined by Erica, and Stiles poked them both with his toes. The two werewolves just grinned up at him, like naughty school children, and Stiles was struck by the closeness he suddenly felt with them. All of them. He was sure that it must have been growing over time but it didn't become obvious to him until now.

His heart was pounding and he found himself strangely out of breath. This was real. This was actually happening. Stiles wondered if the warmth he felt building inside his chest was the pack. If this was how it felt to belong. Stiles took a deep breath and chuckled weakly.

"So not cool, guys... I wasn't supposed to cry..."

"You're not crying, Stiles," Lydia said patiently, head tucked against Stiles' shoulder. And really, he wasn't. He just felt very much like doing so. "You're too much of a man for that."

"Yeah," Isaac agreed, "Stiles doesn't cry."

"Nope, he doesn't," Erica piped up, looking up at Stiles with those wide, brown eyes of hers, wickedness and warmth intermingling, "because Stiles is Batman."

Stiles choked on his laugh and it came out as a half sob instead.

"You guys are the best. I'm keeping you. All of you."

"We're counting on it," Scott replied with a smile, squeezing Stiles' hand.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... was it as good as you had hoped? I know that many of you have been looking forward to this - to the uniting of the pack and all that - but I've been holding out because I wanted to make it believable and reasonably paced. So was it worth the wait?
> 
> This is an incredibly important chapter and basically the climax of this entire first part. There's still one chapter to go though - one that will show what is to come next in terms of plot, new allies and of course hints towards the ever so tempting slash ;)  
> So stay tuned! Just one chapter to go before we're done with the first part, guys!
> 
> My beta, [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum), did an amazing job on finding all my small errors on this one so kudos to her.


	16. Alliance

  


 

* * *

 

Lydia, Jackson and the puppies stayed until Mrs. McCall came and shooed them off, claiming that Stiles needed some room to breathe. To her credit she had only seemed momentarily surprised to suddenly find a pile of teenagers where there had only been Stiles and Scott before, but Stiles suspected that Scott might have told her a thing or two now that he could.

Only Scott was given a free pass to stay and Stiles was fine with that. As much as he had enjoyed the company he needed some time to calm down from the high. They were a pack now. He was actually included, if Isaac, Erica and Boyd's behavior was anything to go by. Stiles wasn't just a sidekick or a plus one. He belonged, just as much as the werewolves did. It was awesome.

Lydia gave Stiles a kiss on his cheek and Erica – as if not wanting to be outdone by the girl who had technically been her rival for Stiles' affection even if Stiles hadn't been aware of it – kissed the other. Stiles made sure to ask Scott that he didn't have lingering lipstick as soon as everyone had filed out of the corridor with waves and goodbyes. Scott chuckled and rubbed the sleeve of his hoodie against Stiles' cheek, apparently taking care of the problem. Stiles couldn't help grinning like a maniac though, despite having his skin rubbed raw.

They found themselves brave enough to try the cafeteria food for dinner and since no one died of food poisoning they decided that it could be considered as a win in their favor. Scott stayed with Stiles for as long as he could but Scott had a morning shift at the animal clinic that Stiles wouldn't allow him to miss it. Scott had offered, oh yes he had, but Stiles would actually appreciate a couple of hours on his own. He had no plans to leave the hospital and while Scott's support was crucial he needed to breathe too and sift things through in the quiet of his own mind. A lot had happened.

So Scott left too eventually, albeit reluctantly, and was given orders to bring a change of clothes and some Adderall for Stiles during one of his breaks the following day. Scott nodded enthusiastically – like the obedient puppy that he was – before finally leaving Stiles' side.

Stiles took a deep breath. At once things felt both better and worse at the same time. Being alone with his thoughts could be a very dangerous thing but he appreciated the calm.

He slumped low in the chair, staring up at the ceiling with a heavy sigh. Stiles had been allowed a quick visit to his dad just before dinner but there hadn't been any change. They had given him more sedatives to battle the pain so he had yet to regain full consciousness. Stiles could accept that. He'd rather have his father asleep than in pain. No question about it.

He still missed him though. Missed his dad's voice, that scolding yet fond smile he always gave Stiles when he had done something particularly stupid and the sometimes slightly awkward but heartfelt hugs. He couldn't believe that it hadn't even been a day yet. Stiles licked his lips and rubbed his eyes. It was still heavy to bear. The fear had settled and given way for a rational calm. He was still anxious and worried, yes, but he wasn't as afraid. There was a subtle difference.

Stiles took a deep breath before rising from the chair, trying to get some circulation back into his legs. He had been sitting on that chair for far too many hours that day. In an effort to prove to himself that he could actually leave the corridor where his dad had his room Stiles went in search for a vending machine. He wasn't craving anything in particular but it felt good to stretch his legs.

His plan backfired a little when he found himself standing in front of the vending machine, just staring at its content. He didn't know what to buy, or if he really wanted anything. In the end he picked what he usually did, just to get the whole thing over with. It was a short adventure but considering that the vending machine was still standing once he was done it was clearly a success.

Stiles turned to head back to his designated camping spot and almost ran into Mr. Argent. And not just bumped into him a little – full on ramming into him. Stiles flailed and stumbled backwards to avoid the collision while Mr. Argent handled it with the same cool he seemed to handle everything. The bastard. Stiles gasped for breath and placed a hand on his own chest, as if to calm his suddenly careening heartbeat.

"Jesus! Warn a guy!"

"I'm sorry, Stiles. I thought that you saw me coming." Mr. Argent was all pleasant smiles but Stiles narrowed his eyes suspiciously. That sentence said more than Mr. Argent probably intended to let on.

"What do you want with me?" Stiles asked, gathering his wits and straightening a little. If Mr. Argent had approached him intentionally he probably meant business. That or offering well-wishes but Stiles got the feeling that it was the former.

Mr. Argent gave him a long, contemplating look and Stiles fought an urge to squirm. Those blue eyes could be incredibly unnerving when they wanted to be. In the end Stiles received a polite but determined smile and Stiles felt as if he had just passed a test somehow.

"I just want to talk. Perhaps we should go somewhere more private?"

Stiles wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to do that. Not that he thought that Mr. Argent would hurt him – Stiles was well aware that Boyd and Erica hadn't managed to flee on their own which made Allison's father the most compassionate hunter Stiles had met so far – but Stiles was all alone. He wasn't comfortable with that.

The thought had barely crossed his mind before he felt a subtle press at the small of his back and he didn't realize that they were fingers until another voice joined the conversation.

"Perhaps not." That was unmistakably Derek, sounding unmistakably hostile.

The hand on his back kept Stiles from recoiling but it didn't keep him from twitching and staring at Derek in complete and utter surprise. Derek really needed to stop sneaking up on him like that. Derek's supporting hand fell away as soon as it had arrived, apparently just there to keep Stiles from stumbling over his own feet in surprise. Because that happened sometimes.

"Derek."

Stiles' gaze snapped back to Mr. Argent and there was no mistaking what that clipped tone meant. There was still a lot of bad blood between them. _A lot_.

"Chris." Derek's lips barely moved. Stiles was suitably impressed.

The atmosphere had taken an immediate turn towards murderous and Stiles felt both nervous and a little scared. He doubted that Mr. Argent would do anything in the middle of the hospital but Derek didn't exactly have a good track record when it came to that. And Stiles had no idea where he stood in the possible event of a fight. He was technically on Derek's side now, right? Even if the alpha might not have been informed about the pack having grown larger. Then again, the baby betas had had ample time to spread the news since they left hours ago. Perhaps Derek was there because of it? Because Stiles was pack now too? At least by association. It made sense. It made something distinctly pleasant stir in Stiles' stomach too.

"Oookay. This is not awkward at all," Stiles breathed, knowing that his voice sounded a little high pitched. They were scaring him, okay?

"I just came to talk to Stiles," Mr. Argent said, forcibly calmer.

"About what?" Stiles hastened to ask, before Derek had a chance to open his mouth and ruin everything somehow. Derek did that a lot. He needed some lessons in social interaction.

"The hunters."

Stiles raised an eyebrow at the very uninformative answer. This time Derek was the one who replied.

"Which concerns the pack. Even if Stiles might-" Stiles quickly grabbed Derek's wrist, as subtly as he could to make sure that Mr. Argent wasn't too aware of the action, and by some kind of miracle Derek seemed to understand what Stiles hadn't wanted him to say. Derek's next words flowed seamlessly with the rest, "- be considered a mediator he doesn't speak for the pack. I do."

Stiles wasn't sure how he knew that Derek had been about to tell Mr. Argent that the pack was now considerably larger but they couldn't do that, not just yet. Partly because it gave them a small edge if they kept it a secret and partly because Stiles wanted to give Scott the chance to tell Allison about it himself. Mr. Argent would no doubt consider it necessary to inform his daughter about the development, if he knew.

The leather under Stiles' fingers was cool to the touch, as if Derek had been outside just moments ago, and that raised the question from where he had come in the first place. And how he had gotten there so fast. Had he been standing guard or something, just in case someone came to find Stiles? There hadn't been many seconds between Mr. Argent approaching and Derek appearing and the hunter apparently hadn't seen the alpha coming. Derek had some serious stealth skills.

Stiles let his fingers slip from Derek's wrist while Mr. Argent glared at them both. Stiles tried to keep his expression schooled and unaffected but he wasn't sure if he managed. Derek looked about as emotional as a brick wall, which was obviously another skill he possessed. It was a little odd really because Derek wasn't nearly as expressionless as some thought – Stiles had seen a multitude of expressions on his face and Derek's eyebrows spoke an entire language on their own. Derek just had this uncanny ability to switch it on and off at will. World's scariest pokerface, that's what it was.

Stiles could feel Derek like a warm presence to his left, just close enough for the leather of Derek's jacket to brush against Stiles' bare arm. It made Stiles wish desperately for something with longer sleeves since he was still padding around in the t-shirt he had slept in and wouldn't get new clothes until Scott brought them the next day. He felt naked and strangely vulnerable.

"They have reconsidered," Mr. Argent said finally, apparently accepting the minor defeat of not getting rid of Derek. Besides, he must have understood that Stiles would tell Derek about it as soon as he turned his back anyway. Not that Stiles could blame the man for feeling such animosity towards Derek. He was the reason for Mrs. Argent's suicide after all, even if it might have been amplified by Gerard Argent, like the true murderous patriarch mastermind that he was.

"Reconsidered?" Stiles asked, voice a little hoarse. They were going back to shooting first and asking questions later? That was so going to mess up their plans. Never mind that they didn't have any plans yet. It was still going to make it all the more difficult.

A strange little smile spread on Mr. Argent's lips.

"They suggest a truce in order to form an alliance."

Stiles eyebrows rose so high that he was pretty certain that they should have fallen off his face by then.

"Truce?" Derek sounded suspicious rather than pleased. Ever the kill-joy.

"Yes. They want an alliance." Mr. Argent nodded and seemed to favor looking at Stiles. Probably because he wasn't envisioning murder and bloody vengeance when he did. "They're worried that the current state of the police force – and the Sheriff's injuries – will make the other pack more confident. That they'll become even more brutal now that one of the threats against them has been severely weakened."

Stiles tried not to let the words get to him but they did. His insides squirmed and he had to bite the inside of his cheek not to turn and head for his dad's room right that instant. Mr. Argent had a clear point though. The police were fumbling in the dark and things were going to be a little shaky until they managed to sort out the chain of command now that Stiles' dad was hospitalized.

"They think that it will be possible to form an alliance?" Stiles tried to keep his voice steady but he was only half successful. Neither of the other two present mentioned it though.

"They're willing to work with the Beacon Hills pack and it's omegas in order to catch this other pack. They're getting more ruthless for each town they pass and they have to be eradicated."

Derek's eyes narrowed, as if he wanted to object to werewolves being referred to as something that could be hunted down like that but they honestly didn't have time to quarrel about semantics. Stiles decided to say something, if only to keep Derek from doing the same.

"It's a rather huge step from the last agreement. Are you trying to tell me that they changed their minds, just like that? They seemed pretty reluctant to associate with werewolves before."

"Well..." An amused smile played on Mr. Argent's lips. "You might have had something to do with that, Stiles. You and my daughter."

Stiles wasn't sure what shocked him the most. He hadn't done anything. He hadn't even _seen_ the hunters since the night he saved Derek a week ago. Stiles decided not to delve deeper into it though.

"Allison?" he asked instead.

"She made quite a compelling case, apparently, speaking for you and Scott in particular," Mr. Argent answered, looking quite proud. Stiles thought that Mr. Argent had all the right in the world to be proud. Stiles was a little surprised to hear that Allison was working with them despite her adversity to their company but perhaps it was her way to apologize. Stiles could totally accept that.

Mr. Argent cleared his throat, looking sadder, just for a moment.

"She sends her best wishes, to you and your father."

Stiles swallowed harshly before nodding. She could probably relate. Allison, with her good heart and angelic smile, deserved so much better than this. They all did.

"What are the conditions for the alliance then?" Derek asked, returning the conversation to the main issue. It might have sounded a little insensitive but Stiles was actually grateful that they wouldn't be discussing him or his dad anymore. It still hurt.

"They want to set up meetings, to arrange more efficient patrols." Mr. Argent looked at Derek, back straight and tone sharp but he didn't seem prepared to commit homicide anymore. "We know about werewolf abilities and skills and they can be a great advantage. But the hunters know the enemy. Cooperation would be beneficial – for all of us."

Stiles couldn't argue with that. He glanced at Derek since the final decision lay with the alpha. Stiles didn't have much say at all, as a matter of fact, since he suspected that if he _did_ hold a position in the pack it was probably as the mascot. Or bait. Probably bait.

Not that Stiles gave a damn about that. He always said what he wanted anyway.

"I'm guessing no bloodshed on either side?" Stiles asked and Mr. Argent nodded.

"Only peaceful negotiations. Which brings me to the other condition."

Stiles could practically feel Derek stiffen beside him, as if expecting something he would refuse to agree on. It was an understandable reaction. Stiles tried to pretend that he wasn't inching closer to Derek. He was beginning to feel pretty cold in the chilly, air conditioned hospital and Derek was considerably warmer. Stiles hoped that no one noticed.

"They want you to be a part of it, Stiles."

Stiles blinked. He opened his mouth but not a sound came out – not even a surprised gasp. Derek seemed to gather his wits much faster.

"Stiles?" Derek said it as if it was the strangest thing he had ever heard and Stiles shot him an offended glare. Stiles was plenty useful, thank you very much.

"Yes. He apparently made quite an impression when bargaining for your life, Derek." Oh, that had to sting. Derek didn't react though and Mr. Argent almost seemed disappointed. "They want you to be present at the meetings, Stiles, to help represent the pack or the omegas – whatever you see fit."

Stiles finally caught up with what was being said and he couldn't help laughing.

"What? You're joking, right? That's ridiculous. Me? A part of the negotiations?" Never mind that he had named himself negotiator. It had been a joke.

Mr. Argent shook his head, a strangely patient look in his eyes.

"No, not at all. Hunters and werewolves are joining forces and they're bound to clash. We need someone to settle things between them."

"And you think that _I_ will be able to do that?" Stiles asked incredulously, waving his hands furiously enough to make one of them slap against Derek's clothed stomach. Not that it did any damage besides making Stiles embarrassed and very, very tingly. He tried to ignore that. Mr. Argent and Derek did too, graciously enough.

"Haven't you already?" Mr. Argent pointed out and Stiles shut his mouth with a clack.

"Beginners luck?" he suggested after a moment but Mr. Argent just shook his head.

"You are human, like the hunters, but see the werewolves' point of view as well. Both sides trust you. You are ideal."

"But... I'm just..." Stiles was grasping for straws. It wasn't that he didn't want to help, he was just so afraid that he was going to fail. Mr. Argent seemed to understand that judging on the gentle but insistent look on his face.

"Stiles, at least think about it."

Stiles took a deep breath and nodded. Think he could do. It didn't include any kind of commitment or expectations. He was pretty certain that he would accept eventually – it wasn't that much of a discussion really since Stiles wanted this to end as much as everyone else did – he just needed time for the shock to settle first.

"And you are fine with this?" Derek asked, clearly all too eager to poke the sleeping bear known as Mr. Argent. Stiles held back his urge to elbow Derek. He would probably only hurt himself in doing so.

Mr. Argent pursed his lips but nodded, a tad bit reluctantly.

"I can see the benefits. It's not ideal and Allison and I will only offer tactical support, but we will help too. This involves all of us."

Stiles felt himself relax, just a little. Derek had a thoughtful look on his face, making it obvious that he was running through the pros and cons of a truce inside his head. Stiles had a sneaking suspicion that Derek was rather tempted to refuse, just because of old habits and grudges. It was a little sad to see really, since Derek needed more people he could trust. Hunters were definitely not the wisest choice but considering the circumstances it was the best they could do.

Stiles got a sudden urge to grab Derek's hand, to twine their fingers together and offer some kind of support, but it was a stupid and ridiculous thought. Derek would tear his fingers off if he did that. Not to mention that it would be really embarrassing and not something that Stiles should be doing. It was preposterous – all of it – and Stiles suppressed the urge and resolutely forgot all about it.

"Fine," Derek said after a while, voice tight, "we accept."

Stiles tried not to let it show that he was surprised that Derek said 'we'. He knew that Mr. Argent wouldn't notice the difference but Derek had never really used that word to describe the pack before. During the kanima incident it had often been 'I' and 'me', never 'we'. Stiles was pretty certain that not even Derek noticed the difference but it had obviously occurred very recently. That warm, twisting feeling in Stiles' chest returned.

"Good. I will alert the hunters." Mr. Argent sounded mostly pleased. "We'll get back to you about the first meeting. Allison has agreed to serve as messenger, should it become necessary."

Stiles could tell that Mr. Argent wasn't all too pleased to have Allison involved in the proceedings but there wasn't much that could stop her once she wanted something. Stiles was pretty certain that she would prove to be both reliable and essential so he had no problems with it. It would also help to keep Scott calmer. If she could accept that Scott had joined Derek's pack, that is. Boy. Things were never easy, were they?

"And you think about what I said, Stiles?"

Stiles answered Mr. Argent's question with a nod and the hunter smiled. Mr. Argent looked back to Derek for a couple of seconds and Stiles could practically feel how the air vibrated with unspoken threats – from both of them. Eventually Mr. Argent just nodded and took a step back, signaling that he was planning to leave.

"I wish your dad a speedy recovery," Mr. Argent said, voice friendly and honest. Stiles twisted the hem of his t-shirt between his fingers and gave another jerky nod.

"Yeah... thanks..." He didn't know what else to say and Mr. Argent didn't seem to expect anything.

The hunter gave him a final look before turning on his heel and walking away. Stiles let out a slow breath, watching Mr. Argent's retreating back, not entirely certain that what had just happened had actually happened.

"Wow," he whispered. "Dude... am I dreaming? An alliance with the hunters?"

Derek was still standing next to him and Stiles gave the alpha a doubtful look, which Derek replied to with a raised eyebrow, as if Stiles was a first class idiot. Ever the charmer.

Without a word Derek started walking and due to some strange and probably unhealthy reflex Stiles followed. He should really look into that. It took him a moment to realize that Derek was leading them back to the chairs Stiles and Scott had been camping in all day.

The biggest surprise though was how Derek sat down on the one furthest to the right – the one Scott had sat in previously – as if it was the most natural thing in the world. It most certainly wasn't.

Stiles stared at him, hardly believing his eyes. Why was Derek even still there? He never spent more time in Stiles' company than strictly necessary and then only during growling complaints. It wasn't until Derek gave him an imploring look that Stiles scrambled to sit down in his usual chair. Which suddenly seemed to stand much too close to the other one.

It hadn't been an issue when Scott was sitting in it but Derek felt a lot bigger and Stiles was pretty afraid of touching him by mistake. But it was too late to switch chairs without looking even more like a complete fool. So Stiles settled for wrapping his own arms around himself and making himself as small as possible. It helped against the chill in the air too.

His leg started bouncing up and down and Stiles ignored Derek's sharp glares that no doubt told him to stop. Unless Derek made him Stiles wasn't going to sit still. Stiles tried not to speculate in how Derek would do that and just kept flicking his gaze from the spot on the wall to the crack just up under the ceiling, leaning forwards a little to distance himself from Derek if possible. He had no idea what Derek was up to and as far as uncomfortable silences went this was in Stiles' top three. His skin practically crawled. But that could be the goose bumps too.

It was a testament to Stiles' lack of attention that he didn't register that Derek had moved until something heavy landed on Stiles' shoulders. He blinked in surprise and stared at the black leather suddenly draping across his shoulders, spreading warmth he so desperately craved. He gaped at Derek, who was looking casual as ever, as if he hadn't just given Stiles his jacket, and Stiles just couldn't keep his mouth shut. Confused questions were burning on his tongue.

"Dude. What? Are you-"

One look from Derek shut him up. It wasn't the usual 'shut the fuck up, Stiles'-glare but it was definitely a 'we're not talking about the jacket, Stiles'-glare. So they were obviously not talking about the jacket. Stiles licked his lips and looked at the floor instead, subtly pulling the leather closer around himself. It was certainly better than Stiles thin t-shirt and still had remnants of Derek's warmth, which Stiles soaked up without shame. It was actually strangely cozy for being a creaky leather jacket. And those were not butterflies in Stiles' stomach. What a ridiculous notion.

"Are you just going to sit here in silence?" Stiles suddenly asked, his tongue getting the best of him again. "Because that's just really creepy, okay?"

Derek sighed heavily, as if Stiles' voice hurt his ears, but turned his head to look at Stiles. But that was also the only thing he did. He just looked. He still didn't say anything. Stiles tensed and stared back, into Derek's bright eyes and stupidly handsome face, feeling something very warm and very not welcome stir in his abdomen. His breath hitched. So not going there.

"What?" he squeaked, panicking just a little. "Staring isn't making the creepy go away!"

Something that could have been amusement seemed to flash in Derek's eyes but Stiles was pretty certain that he was just imagining it.

"You want me to talk?" Derek asked, his tone clearly stating what a bad thing that would be. Stiles wasn't sure if he agreed. He hadn't really talked to Derek about usual things. If Derek even knew how to talk about usual things. The thought seemed so completely foreign that Stiles was asking about it before he could stop himself.

"Do you watch movies?"

Derek frowned, his expression a mix of confusion, disbelief and condescension. Like usual, in other words.

"What kind of question is _that_?"

"I was asking you if you watch movies. Because, you know, you seem to have very low standards when it comes to housing so perhaps you just don't do... normal stuff? Like watch movies." Now that Stiles said it out loud it sounded ridiculously stupid. Derek's raised eyebrow seemed to say the same thing.

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response," Derek said, sounding bored.

"You know, the fun thing with that answer is that you actually _do_ , you know? Your response is that you won't reply, so technically you already _have_ answered something and-"

"Stiles."

"Okay, shutting up now."

This was completely different from talking to Scott or the others. Derek didn't ask him how his father was doing or look at him with those sympathetic and slightly pitying eyes. Derek treated him like he usually did. He didn't apologize either. Stiles found that he appreciated that more than he thought that he would. He also found that he wanted to keep talking.

"Hey, have you heard of central heterochromia?" Stiles asked, ignoring Derek's suffering look that seemed to ask what he had done to deserve Stiles non-stop chatter. "It's an eye condition. You have it."

Okay, not the wisest thing to say to a werewolf alpha since Derek looked rather insulted. Most people would when you told them that they had a condition of some sort. Stiles raised his hands, trying to signal that he came in peace.

"Not like that! It's just... your eye color. It means that you have more than one, like, a ring around the centre and other colors outside of it. It's what it's called. Central heterochromia." Stiles gestured towards his own face, making small circle motions as if to explain what a ring looked like. "With the brown in the middle and the blue or grey or green or whatever it is that you have outside of it."

Derek tilted his head to the side, just a little, and frowned. But it wasn't an angry frown. It was a thoughtful and slightly confused one. Stiles thought that it looked pretty good on him. Cute even. And that was something that Stiles would never, ever – under any circumstances – say out loud.

"Are you seriously discussing the color of my eyes?"

Stiles mouth fell open but he couldn't think of a suitable reply. Probably because there was none. His cheeks started to burn and he licked his lips nervously, trying to look at anything but Derek. He needed to find something else to talk about – right now – which was naturally incredibly difficult to do under so much pressure.

"I haven't," Derek said casually.

Stiles blinked, looking back at Derek against better knowledge.

"Haven't what?"

Derek sighed.

"I haven't heard of it before."

That was probably Derek's way of trying to smooth it over and giving Stiles' a smidgeon of his lost dignity back. Stiles was smart enough to let the subject die after that.

The following silence was short lived however since Stiles soon found a new subject to pursue – one that was actually important to discuss. He gnawed thoughtfully on his bottom lip.

"The cops don't know yet," Stiles said haltingly. Derek turned to look at him and Stiles cleared his throat, staring at the floor. "Most of them won't believe what they saw when my dad was attacked, but I-..." He fell silent.

"You're afraid that your father did." It wasn't even a question. Stiles nodded wordlessly and Derek remained silent, clearly demonstrating his lack of conversation skills. Stiles sighed. He really had to do all the work when it came to this shit.

"I have no idea how he's going to react if he actually _did_ see something." Stiles scratched his nose absently. "I mean, it will be easier if he knows because then he won't have to drive himself nuts over the oddities and consistencies he runs into all the time but-..." Stiles bit his lip. "... I don't want to tell him."

"Why not? If it makes it easier for him and for you?" Derek sounded rather flippant but the mere fact that he asked was a dead giveaway that he actually took some sort of interest in the conversation.

"Because _I_ would have to tell him. I have no idea how to do that – what to say. How do you explain to someone – your _dad_ – that you've been lying to him for months because of _werewolves_. I mean, really. Werewolves." He waved his hands through the air, trying to show how absurd that thought was to normal people. Derek probably didn't understand. He had been a werewolf his entire life. Stiles sighed in defeat.

"You'll think of something."

Stiles stared at Derek in disbelief.

"Dude. Are you seriously trying to cheer me up?" A grin began to spread on Stiles' lips. Derek didn't look amused.

"Don't call me dude," Derek bit back, bluntly avoiding the question. Stiles laughed.

"Thanks man. You suck at it but at least you're trying."

Derek rolled his eyes but Stiles was pretty certain that there was a hint of a proud smile there. As if Derek was actually pretty pleased with himself for having eased Stiles' mind a little. It was absurd because Derek didn't care about Stiles, but perhaps it was a pack thing?

Speaking of that.

"So I'm guessing that Isaac, Erica and Boyd told you?"

Stiles didn't need to clarify. Derek gave a short, firm nod but it wasn't difficult to see how satisfied he was. Stiles would never say it out loud but there were times when Derek was a little puppy-like too.

"And... am I included?" Stiles hated how uncertain and needy he sounded all of a sudden. He didn't want to. He was just afraid of getting excluded for some reason – because he was human, because he was annoying, because he wasn't useful. Anything could apply really. Stiles wanted to go where Scott went and he would hate to be shut out from this.

Derek rolled his eyes again and crossed his arms over his chest, looking surprisingly at ease where he sat in a hospital chair with his chiseled face and offensively tight black t-shirt.

"Weren't you the one who claimed that you were coming no matter what I said about it?" Derek sounded harsh as always but there was a subtly teasing glint in his eyes. Stiles wasn't quite sure how to react to that.

"Yeah but, I mean, that's obviously a lie. You must have heard that." Stiles shrugged, trying to pretend that he wasn't afraid of Derek's answer.

To his surprise Derek remained silent for a long while, as if it was something he actually needed to consider. It only made Stiles more nervous and he gripped the ends of the leather jacket.

"No."

Stiles felt his chest constrict at Derek's one word reply. So he wasn't pack after all? Even after what he had done to make sure that Scott and Jackson joined? That sucked.

"I didn't hear it."

Stiles blinked in confusion and stared at Derek.

"Say what?"

Derek sighed, as if Stiles was causing him much grievance, but he did repeat it.

"No, I didn't hear your obvious lie."

Oh. Stiles found himself intrigued and turned more towards Derek while hiking the leather jacket higher on his shoulders. Derek seemed to follow the movement with his eyes but Stiles wasn't going to give it back just yet. If Derek had borrowed him his jacket he was going to keep it until he was warm again. Which he technically was but he pretended that he wasn't.

"Really? Why not? I thought that you werewolves could hear a lie from miles away."

Derek seemed reluctant but eventually replied.

"You are more difficult to read than other humans. Your heartbeats are... unnatural." Stiles had a moment to feel offended before Derek continued. "I'm assuming it's the medication."

"Oh." Stiles blinked in surprise. "Yeah... I guess so. Adderall does that to you. It's one of the noted side effects actually."

Of course Stiles had researched his own medication. He was curious by nature.

"Your heart beats more rapidly and blips even when you're not upset. It's difficult to determine a lie from truth when your heart does that all the time, even when you're perfectly calm." Derek sounded so cranky, as if he couldn't believe that his werewolf senses were being fooled by Stiles' funny little heart. Stiles couldn't help grinning and elbowing Derek's side, just because.

"Aww... it's okay. You're still the big bad alpha." His grin turned wicked. "Then again, you wouldn't know if I was lying or not when I say that, would you?"

Now Stiles had earned himself Derek's patented Stiles-glare but for some reason it only made Stiles feel all the more pleased. He tugged Derek's jacket closer around himself and slouched lower in his chair, making himself more comfortable. Derek still looked offended. Stiles would have laughed if it wasn't for the fact that he didn't want to get his face rearranged.

A silence settled between them and Stiles felt strangely okay with it. He was still eager to talk but didn't feel obligated to do so. His leg was bouncing less spastically while his fingers fiddled with the creases and folds on the leather jacket Derek had borrowed him. Stiles still couldn't believe that Derek of all people had done that. Even if it was obvious that Stiles was cold Stiles hadn't thought that Derek would notice – or care for that matter. It did unspeakable things to Stiles' insides though.

"You are," Derek said suddenly, causing Stiles to twitch from surprise. He stared at the alpha, clearly not following.

"I am what? You need to speak in full sentences Derek, no matter how much it pains you to string so many words together."

Derek pursed his lips, seemingly inches from giving up on talking entirely, but eventually he just huffed and stared straight ahead at the opposite wall.

"You are included."

Stiles didn't even try to stop the wide grin that spread on his lips. Derek shot him a warning look and Stiles held up his hands, showing that he wasn't going to tease the alpha about it. Much. Or at least not right now.

Instead Stiles settled back in his chair with a pleased, happy smile on his lips. Derek looked about as happy as if someone had poked him in the eye with a stick but Stiles didn't allow that to sour his own mood. He belonged too. He was pack. Derek might not seem that enthusiastic about it but he acknowledged it at least. That was all Stiles could ask for at the moment. There would be a lot to talk about later, when they were all gathered to make it official, but right then and there it wasn't necessary. It just was. The pack had united.

Stiles didn't question why Derek didn't seem prone to leave. He suspected that Derek wouldn't answer even if he asked. And besides, Derek's company was strangely comforting so Stiles wasn't exactly eager to see him go. It wasn't quite as safe as Scott made him feel but it was easier because Derek didn't try to baby him. Stiles appreciated the change.

Little by little Stiles' leg stopped bouncing, Derek's crossed arms relaxed and before he knew it Stiles fell asleep. He was pretty certain that he kept to his own chair but he couldn't be completely sure because Derek was gone when Mrs. McCall woke him two hours later, probably on her way home from a long overdue shift.

She seemed confused by the leather jacket Stiles was cuddling into but since he didn't know how to explain it he just pretended that it was natural for him to have it. It wasn't. Stiles had been certain that Derek would have wrestled it from him instead of letting Stiles keep it. But the alpha was MIA so Stiles could only guess why he still had it. It was a little too big for Stiles but he couldn't deny that it was warm – probably more so because of the meaning of the gesture, not the actual garment.

Stiles refused to leave the hospital when Mrs. McCall offered him a ride home and she relented with a tired, caring sigh. She stroked his cheek, once, and he fought his need to lean into the touch. He couldn't get used to it. He did smile at her though and she left just as reluctantly as her son had.

Stiles watched her go, slightly disoriented, and in lack of better things to do he just sank back into his chair, wrapped his makeshift blanket tighter around himself and went back to sleep, nose buried in the folds of Derek's leather jacket.

He dreamt of howling wolves and glowing red eyes.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the first part! Whoop! Geez. It's been quite a journey, huh? But now the really fun stuff begins! The next part, _Running With Wolves_ , will be looking forward instead of backwards with tons of character interaction, regular action and quite a lot of not-so-subtle touching. If you catch my drift.
> 
> As you might have noticed I've brightened the fanfic up a bit with a banner and pictures at the scene breaks (to see those you have to go back a chapter though) and the same will apply to the following two parts. Because a pretty fanfic is... urr... a pretty fanfic! Also, the illustration in this chapter can be found [HERE](http://lienwyn.tumblr.com/post/68204881849/from-wolf-pack-by-amethystina-my-da-the)!
> 
> I want to give a huge, enormous thanks to my beta, [CarpeDentum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDentum) for being with me on this project and putting up with my nagging, insecurities and of course correcting the MASSIVE amounts of text. I also want to thank [Citruspocket](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Citruspocket/pseuds/Citruspocket) for the support and frankly awesome comments. I'll write fanfics forever if I can keep meeting people like you through them! A hug to all of my other friends, subscribers, commenters and readers as well! You are AWESOME. All of you.
> 
> Also, here's my [Tumblr](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/). Now let's move on to the next part!


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